


The Space Between - First Arc - Austria to England

by blue_pointer



Series: The Space Between [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Brooklyn street tough vernacular, Captain America: The First Avenger, Consensual Sex, Drunkenness, Fluff, Horny!Steve, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jealous!Steve, Lovers' Quarrel, M/M, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Smut, Stucky - Freeform, Switching, brothers in arms, hints of steggy, iliad references, laughter is the best medicine, possessive!Steve, sent to the principal's office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 99,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened with Steve and Bucky in all those scenes we DIDN'T get to see during the war?<br/>Ever wonder what Bucky went through while he was in the isolation ward?<br/>How does Bucky feel about the new and “improved” Steve?<br/>Just love the Howling Commandos?<br/>This all takes place during The First Avenger. Read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Austria

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and features:  
> Steve (POV)  
> Bucky  
> Jones  
> Dernier  
> Falsworth

Something was wrong with Bucky.

Steve really should have realized sooner. It didn’t help that they’d had exactly zero time alone together since escaping the burning Hydra munitions factory.

It had been a tense 48 hours for all the men, but most of the soldiers had seemed more than willing to get back to telling off-color jokes and stories to cheer one another up along the way back to Allied territory.

Bucky, on the other hand, had been notably quiet, and Steve could count the number of times he’d smiled on one hand.

When they were in the thick of things, fighting their way through Nazi fortifications on the march west, Bucky was always right there at Steve’s back, covering him. But as soon as things quieted down, he would slip away alone.

The first night, Steve had found Bucky out at the watch perimeter, holding his Enfield and staring out into the darkness. Steve had quietly taken up watch beside him--he didn’t need much sleep anymore since the serum--and they’d stayed that way until dawn.

The second night, Steve was sure Bucky would sleep. They’d been through a lot during the day’s march, and most everyone else was done as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Again, Bucky took watch duty out of turn. When Steve finally tracked him down, he looked nowhere near sleep. “Buck,” Steve said quietly, “When you gonna take a rest?” 

“When I’m dead,” came the immediate response. Steve stared at his friend, chilled. Bucky wasn’t even smirking. Steve didn’t like the idea that he might be serious.

“C’mon, man,” Steve urged. “I got you. And I know you ain’t rested since we left the compound.” Bucky glanced over, and there was an emptiness in his eyes.

“Neither have you,” Bucky observed, which was a bit more like the Bucky Steve remembered.

Steve’s expression softened. “Does that mean if I go lie down you will, too?”

Something in Bucky’s face changed, and he withdrew again. “You should rest, Steve.” His gaze was fixed on the trees ahead.

“We gonna start this whole conversation over again, pal?”

“You two always argue like an old married couple?” a voice asked from their left. Bucky didn’t turn around, but Steve nearly pissed himself.

His eyes were pretty good in the dark now, but Steve had somehow missed the buffalo soldier who’d been crouched a few yards away this whole time. When he recovered, Steve looked to Bucky for how to answer. Bucky gave no hint, still staring off into the distance.

Steve decided to do this the old-fashioned way. He walked over to the dark-skinned man. “Hi. Rogers.” He extended a hand to the stranger. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Captain America,” the man nodded. “Yeah, I know you. Name’s Jones.” He shook Steve’s hand briefly but firmly before returning his own to the barrel of his rifle.

There was a bit of an awkward pause where Steve tried to think of what to talk about with this man and Bucky made no effort to introduce himself.

“This is...my pal Bucky...Barnes.” He added the last bit when Bucky glanced back long enough to give Steve a disapproving look. “Sergeant Barnes,” Steve corrected himself. “We’re not married, but I guess we’ve known each other longer than some married couples.”

Bucky said nothing, just produced a pack of cigarettes from the latest Nazi encampment they’d destroyed and lit one up. Steve wrinkled his nose. “You seriously gonna smoke that in front of me?” Sure, he wasn’t asthmatic anymore, but Bucky didn’t know that.

With a quiet look, Bucky sauntered off, cradling his rifle in one arm while he smoked with his free hand. “It was nice meeting you, Jones.” Steve bid a quick farewell before running off after Bucky.

“Married,” Jones said, decidedly. A long litany of French followed from the man’s left, and Jones burst out laughing.

Steve didn’t have time to try and puzzle out what had been said. He had to lengthen his stride just to catch up to Bucky, but it was easier than it used to be. “Hey,” he called out softly. “Where ya goin’?” 

Bucky merely glanced back. “You don’t want the smoke around you, so…” He gestured as he spoke, the glowing cherry painting an orange trail in the night air.  
  
“I don’t want you smoking, period,” Steve said, reaching out to take the cigarette from Bucky’s fingers.  
  
“Hey!” Bucky protested, holding the cigarette out of Steve’s reach. “Everyone smokes here. You gonna start takin’ people’s cigarettes you’re gonna have another war on your hands, pal.”  
  
Steve’s reach was longer now than Bucky was used to. While his friend was busy lecturing him, Steve plucked the cylinder from Bucky’s hand and crushed it out in his fist before dropping it to the ground. “I’m not talkin’ about the whole army smokin’, I’m talkin’ about YOU poisoning your damn lungs with the stuff.” Bucky shrugged angrily and turned away. “You never used to smoke, Buck,” Steve chided.

“‘Course not,” Bucky grumbled. “ _You_ were there.” He glanced back at Steve unhappily. “Don’t look like it sets off your asthma no more, though.”

Steve drew himself up to his full new height of 6’2”. “You still shouldn’t smoke.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Bucky turned to face him. “I do a lotta things I didn’t used to do now, Steve. Like marching into Nazi territory and getting shot at. Like killing people every damn day--”

“It’s war,” Steve cut him off.

“Exactly,” Bucky said. “Things are different here, Steve. This ain’t Brooklyn.” He reached into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes. “I wish you’da stayed home like I told you to.”

Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky’s wrist so that he’d let go of the cigarettes. “Like I was gonna stay there with you over here riskin’ your life.”

Bucky heaved a sigh. “You’re a li-- a punk,” he amended hastily, letting the pack drop back into his pocket.

“Jerk,” Steve said gently. A moment of tenderness nearly passed between them. At the last second, Bucky’s expression hardened, and he started off through the woods again.

“Buck.” Steve followed close on Bucky’s heels. “Stop.” He managed to catch his friend’s wrist, and Bucky stopped so abruptly, Steve almost plowed into him. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked, the urgency of his need to know audible in his voice. 

Bucky had been so glad to see him at the Hydra compound. Steve had been sure things were going to be the same between them in spite of all the time that had passed. But now he was having doubts.

“Nothing.” Bucky insisted. A lie. Because he refused to look Steve in the eye, Steve moved around in front of Bucky. When Bucky dropped his gaze, Steve crouched to catch it, leaning forward over a fallen tree.

“Bucky…” The cover here was sparse enough that the moon penetrated the canopy, throwing the details of Bucky’s face into sharp contrast. His cheeks looked hollow in the moonlight, and shadows moved behind his eyes.

Steve just stared at him, taking in every minute detail. He had missed Bucky so much. When Colonel Phillips had confirmed Bucky’s name on the missing list, Steve had refused to accept his friend’s death. He couldn’t have come all this way to the front for nothing, he’d thought.

It had been almost 6 months since they’d last seen one another. Now that they were back together, Steve wasn’t about to let Bucky out of his sight again. No matter how many times he walked away, Steve would follow him. To the gates of Hell, if necessary.

In the silence that passed between them, Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s for a brief moment. The moonlight had washed the color from them, and in that split second, Bucky looked lost, haunted.

Steve couldn’t stand it. He darted up from his resting place to press his lips to Bucky’s. He wanted to breathe life back into his friend, to drag him back to this present moment where they were together.

Slowly, so slowly it made Steve’s heart ache, Bucky raised his hands to cup Steve’s face with trembling fingers. What started as wan and hesitant turned passionate in a heartbeat, and Bucky was kissing Steve back with a fierce desperation, like a drowning man trying to get air.

Steve’s new body was on fire, responding to Bucky’s passion in every conceivable way. Steve had experienced nothing like this since the change, and it was heady, intense. Steve found himself panting into Bucky’s mouth. He gripped his friend’s arms, forcefully pulling Bucky against him. Steve wanted--no, he needed more.

“Don’t!” Bucky recoiled, lashing out to break Steve’s hold on him. He turned away to hide his face, his own breathing ragged.

“Buck…” Steve reached for him but stopped. Something was wrong. “What--”

The loud snap of a twig across the clearing startled both of them. A mousey-looking man in British army uniform stared at them, wide-eyed. “Er...well, if you chaps have come to take over the watch here, I must admit I wouldn’t mind a brief lie-down.”

“Go ahead,” Steve told him, his voice hoarse. How much had the man seen? “We can cover things here.”

The British soldier nodded, rushing hurriedly past them with a polite, “Captain,” as he passed Steve. His night vision was good enough now that Steve could see the flush of the man’s cheeks as he hurried by. 

Bucky waited for the foreigner to get out of earshot. “I should kick your ass for that,” he growled.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“You better hope that Limey knows how to keep his mouth shut, or we are seriously fucked.”

“You think I should follow ‘im?” Steve asked.

“No.” Bucky’s reply was firm. “Whatever kind of guy he is, you won’t change his mind by pleading or threatening. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

Somehow, Steve wasn’t really concerned about what the other men would think just now. He had someone more important on his mind. “I’m not sorry,” he said, breaking the silence.

“You should be.” Bucky’s jaw was clenched.

Suddenly Steve felt like he had rocks in his belly. He wasn’t sure how to take that. The way Bucky had pushed him away just now--did he really not want this? Steve could no longer find his voice to ask.

“I’ll go back first,” Bucky said. “We can’t be seen together right now.”

“I thought we were gonna keep watch,” Steve said, feeling like a kicked puppy. He must have looked like one, too, because Bucky came over and placed a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“I’ll go lie down somewhere, try to rest, like you wanted.” For a moment, Steve thought Bucky was going to move closer, but he didn’t. Instead, he just let go.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” he said softly, and started to walk away. “This is the way it’s gotta be now.”

“Wait,” Steve called after him. “What do you mean ‘now’?” Anxiety started clawing at the inside of his solar plexus, trying to get out.

“Don’t follow me, Steve,” was all Bucky said before disappearing back into the trees.

“‘Now’?” Steve repeated to himself, stunned. Did Bucky mean they couldn’t be together anymore...ever? Or just for now--now? 

Steve felt sick. He hadn’t come all this way just to stare longingly at his best friend from across a battlefield.

He didn’t keep very good watch that night. Steve was too distracted by all of the thoughts endlessly circling around in his head.

 

 


	2. Le Bel Homme sans Merci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve makes new acquaintances and comes face to face with a terrifying green-eyed monster years before meeting Hulk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Teen and features:  
> Steve (POV)  
> Bucky  
> Morita  
> Falsworth  
> Jones  
> Dernier  
> Dugan

The next day, they took out a German barracks. With the stolen Hydra energy weapons, they couldn’t seem to lose; it was like the Nazis had never seen them before.

Even after what had happened last night, Bucky was at Steve’s elbow the whole way, providing cover fire and making sure no one could come up behind Steve. They fell into the cooperative fighting rhythm they’d developed as kids, and it felt right. But Steve couldn’t get Bucky’s ultimatum out of his head in spite of it.

They’d barely penetrated the main structure when Bucky shouted suddenly behind him. “Goddamn--! Steve!”

Steve finished smashing two German soldiers’ heads together and whirled around just in time to watch a Nazi stab his friend with a combat knife.

Steve lost it. With a roar, he picked the man up by his neck and squeezed. “Bucky!” Steve cried out, glancing back to check on his friend when he felt the German’s body go limp.

“It’s all right,” Bucky said, looking through a hole in his shirt. “Bounced of my dog tags.” He looked up at Steve. “It’s just a scratch, not deep.” Bucky shook his head. “Fucking gun jammed.” Then he stopped, staring silently at the dead man Steve was still holding aloft.

Steve slowly processed that the bones of the man’s neck felt like a fistful of gravel under his fingers and let go. He’d had no idea he could do that. Steve was still learning the limits of his new body, and there didn’t seem to be many.

He was wondering if he should say something about it when another German rushed them with what he might have thought was a berserker battle cry. Bucky shot him dead in the chest at the exact same moment Steve’s shield crashed into the man’s face. 

Steve continued as though nothing had happened. “Buck, you sure--?”

“I swear to God, if you ask me am I okay after I just told you, I’m gonna bust you in the nose.” Then Bucky grinned, and Steve just wanted to kiss him. But he couldn’t, because this was the way it had to be now. Also, they hadn’t cleared the area of hostiles yet, which was an important thing to remember.

It was dark before they’d finished dealing with the Germans and taking care of their own wounded. “What do you think?” Steve asked as they poured over a tattered map. Two other soldiers with rank had joined them, a specialist from the 100th and the mousey Englishman from last night who, as it turned out, did know how to keep his mouth shut. Come to find out the guy was some kind of lord. It was great to have help with strategy and all, Steve thought, but it also ensured he and Bucky couldn’t be alone together, even now. 

“Less than ten miles,” Bucky said. “If we push, we could make it by noon.”  
  
“Over this terrain?” the Japanese-American officer asked. “In the dark and with wounded?”  
  
“I must agree with Corporal Morita,” the Englishman put in. “Recommend against, Captain.”  
  
Steve and Bucky exchanged glances and Bucky shrugged. “There’s no injury that won’t hold another day.”  
  
Steve nodded. “Okay. We’ll dig in for the night, then. Start back for camp at dawn. Buck, will you set up the watch?”

“Yes, Sir.” Bucky saluted and left. He’d tried in vain to convince Steve to address him more formally in front of the other men, but it was like Steve had some sort of mental block. He just couldn’t get into the habit. 

“I’ll inform the medical unit,” Falsworth said, also saluting Steve before he left.

“I’m going to scour this place for booze,” Morita said. “I know some guys who could use it.”

“Hang in there,” Steve told him. “We’re almost home.” 

“For you, maybe,” Morita frowned. “I’m not part of the 107th. Too Asian.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve assured him. “I’ll get it all squared away with Colonel Phillips when we get back to camp.” The corporal didn’t look convinced, but he made no further argument, leaving to start his treasure hunt.  

Steve himself made the rounds through the troops, letting everyone know the plan and trying to keep spirits up. Somehow his path never crossed Bucky’s, and Steve couldn’t help but feel that was by his friend’s design. 

When he was finished, Steve found himself pacing, restless. Then he decided: he was going to find Bucky even if Bucky did not want to be found. _Fuck that_. Maybe Steve couldn’t kiss him anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t at least be near his best friend.  
  
On his way, he passed through the radio room, encountering the buffalo soldier and his French friend once more. Steve was about to greet them when Jones held up a hand for silence.  
  
“ _Jawohl, alles klar,_ ” he spoke into the mic. “ _Wir sollen Sie wieder anrufen nach zwei Uhr.”_ The Frenchman turned the radio off and Jones nodded to Steve, indicating it was safe to speak.

“Good thinking, Soldier,” Steve said.

The European man replied for both of them in his usual French. It had been a few years since his high school French classes, so Steve could only pick out _porc allemand_ and _mangent merde._ When the Frenchman was through, Jones translated with some abridgement, “If we don’t radio back when they expect it, they know this place is compromised, and we can count on company before morning.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks. Think you can keep giving them what they want?”

Jones nodded. “Between me and Dernier here? No problem. All we ever did was listen to the damned Germans on the radio before Hydra got us. Piece of cake.” His companion spoke more French, the tone seemingly echoing Jones’ sentiment, but perhaps with a few more expletives thrown in.

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Steve said, and turned to resume his search for Bucky.

He was just stepping through the exit when Dernier said something else. The only words Steve knew were _le bel homme._ His brow furrowed as Steve tried to puzzle out what in the world the man could be talking about.

“Captain!” Jones called after him, and Steve turned back. “He says your friend went that way.” And he pointed to the door opposite the one Steve had been about to walk through.

“Thanks,” Steve said, nodding to Dernier before he went in the direction Jones had pointed.

The door opened on a set of stairs leading down. Steve could hear the buzz of multiple voices below. As he descended, Steve pondered the Frenchman’s chosen adjective and to whom he’d been referring. From context, it sounded like Bucky was _le bel homme_ , and that didn’t sit well with Steve.  

He’d been spoiled, knowing Bucky his whole life, but that didn’t mean Steve had ever taken his best friend’s good looks for granted. For one thing, Bucky’s attractiveness to women had landed them in no small amount of trouble over the years. For another, Steve was kind of a fan of Bucky’s looks himself. But he’d never heard another man comment on them before in a non-derogatory way. Perhaps it _had_ been derogatory and Steve had just lost that bit in translation. Or perhaps Bucky had been on the front surrounded by red-blooded men who’d had no access to women for too long. Steve didn’t like that thought. He didn’t like it at all.

Following the sound of voices, Steve found himself in the barracks kitchen. Able-bodied soldiers were searching every last inch for supplies, setting aside non-perishables for the march ahead and divvying up perishables for tonight’s fare. Steve spied Bucky perched on a polished steel countertop, dangling his legs while he ate an apple. He was wearing the ghost of a smile, and Steve was relieved to see him trying.

A great beast of a man was standing next to Bucky--too close for it to be coincidence--speaking in an animated manner. Steve made a beeline for them, needing to know who this man was who could make Bucky smile when nothing Steve had done seemed to work.

“Steve!” His friend called out when he saw him, and Bucky’s smile became heartbreakingly sweet. “C’mere, I want you to meet Dum Dum.”

Bucky turned to the large mustachioed man. “Dugan, this is my friend Steve from the Heights. Steve, this is Dugan. He worked the docks by DUMBO before the war.”

“No shit?” Steve reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Small world.”  

The man grabbed Steve’s hand in one meaty paw and then paused, turning back to Bucky with a grin. “Very funny, Sarge. This here’s Captain America.”

Bucky’s smile was patient. “That’s right, Dugan,” he said. “Captain America’s name is Steve.”

The man gave a belly-shaking roar of a laugh. “Come on, Sergeant Brains, you can do better than that! You told me your friend Steve was a little guy.”  

Steve watched Bucky, hoping to catch his gaze. He’d told his army buddies about him? Why? How? And why was this big gorilla still holding onto his hand?

“Look at this guy!” Dugan gave Steve a pat on the back that would have sent most men sprawling. “He must weigh 250 pounds!”

Bucky’s eyes finally met Steve’s, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. “He used to be smaller,” was all Bucky said.

Steve could never have imagined there would be a time he would wish he could reverse the serum. But he did. Right now, with that look on his face, Steve almost felt like he owed Bucky an apology.

“Wow!” Dum Dum exclaimed. “No shit? How’d you do it?” He grabbed his bowler hat with both hands, as if the sudden gust of a thought he’d just had might blow it off. “Don’t tell me Charles Atlas really works?!”

When he answered, Steve’s eyes held Bucky’s, because it wasn’t just Dugan’s question he was answering. “Sorry, that’s classified.” Bucky turned away, looking even more unhappy.

“Don’t worry, Sarge,” Dugan reassured him. “We’ll get the story outta him eventually. You can’t keep a secret from the guys in your platoon forever!” he told Steve cheerfully.

Steve’s eyes were still on Bucky. He couldn’t help but think about what his friend had said to him last night.

“Hey, Cap, want something to eat?” Dugan asked. “There’s plenty to go around.” He held up a can of beans, already open.

Steve made a face at the smell coming from inside, trying not to cough. “No thanks.”

Dugan shrugged and proceeded to polish off the contents himself. Bucky finished his apple and chucked the core at the big man, who ducked. “You are not sackin’ out anywhere near me tonight,” Bucky said. “Between those beans and the jar of sauerkraut you ate earlier--”

Dum Dum grinned. “Aw, Sarge, you know you don’t sleep good without my snorin’ in yer ears.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ reek!” Bucky finished, playfully hurling another apple at his head.

Steve caught it in midair, watching the other two men closely. What the fuck was this? The two of them slept together? Steve didn’t realize he’d started to crush the apple until juice was dribbling down his arm.

“Well don’t waste the food!” Dugan said in dismay, witnessing Steve’s crime against fruit.

“Stevie always liked applesauce,” Bucky joked, taking in Steve’s reaction with something that looked like satisfaction.

“Damn--” Dugan began, and then voices called out behind them.

“Beef!”

“We found beef!”

“Aw, it’s just beef jerky!”

But Dugan was hurrying off to see anyway. “Later, Sarge!” he called back. “You, too, Captain Steve!”

Bucky chuckled fondly. “Numbskull.”

Steve continued to stare at him without a word. Something was stirring inside him, and it wasn’t love or friendship. It felt like the Hydra kraken slowly unfurling its tentacles in his heart.  

“Steve,” Bucky said gently. “You really gonna keep crushing that apple into paste? I know you’re strong now, you don’t gotta show off.”

Steve set the remains of the apple on the counter next to Bucky very carefully. Then he gripped the steel on either side of his friend, trying to stay calm. “You wanna tell me what the fuck, or am I supposed to guess?” Steve growled softly.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was soothing, and when he tilted his head to explain, his expression turned sad. “Dugan is the only one left out of my whole fireteam.” Bucky’s eyes grew distant. “I was responsible for those men, and now they’re dead.” He paused. “Because of me.”

Steve went from angrily crushing the indentations of his fingers into the steel countertop to full-on concern for his friend in less than three seconds flat. “Buck, that can’t be true,” he said.

“It is,” Bucky assured him. “I keep tellin’ Dum Dum only reason he’s still alive is ‘cause he’s too stubborn to die.” His smile was wan, back to the ghost of itself Steve had come to know these past three days.

Steve reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Buck. I’m sorry.”

“Steve,” Bucky breathed his name, and raised one hand to rest on Steve’s chest.

He suddenly realized just how close they were. Steve could smell Bucky, the salty sweetness of his skin, even underneath days’ worth of sweat and funk wearing the same clothes, and the bitter tang of cigarette smoke that lingered on the fabric. Steve wanted him. He wanted Bucky so badly it was a good thing the front of his pants was hidden against the counter. How good would it feel to press his friend up against the cinder block wall right now, and get him out of those clothes...

“Come on,” Bucky urged, just before Steve’s pheromone-addled mind could go spinning off into oblivion. He shoved gently at Steve’s chest. “Lemme down before someone looks over here.” Steve hadn’t noticed he had Bucky pinned between his arms on the counter. He looked up into his friend’s face, his eyes dazed with lust. “Steve!” Bucky whispered sharply, snapping him out of it. “Stop!”

Steve stepped back, feeling numb as Bucky hopped down and got out of his arm’s reach as quickly as possible.

“Eat something,” Bucky urged, turning back to nod at Steve once before disappearing up the stairs.  

Steve whimpered as he bit into what remained of the apple. If his new body was going to go bonkers like this every time Bucky was in arm’s reach, this was going to be a long fucking march.

 


	3. "That Thing"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky ponders how he feels about Steve's new body. Some of Steve's worst fears are confirmed. Falsworth makes a pledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't seem to stay out of Bucky's head. Hopefully this clears up a couple of things, and we can return to our regularly scheduled program in the next chapter. 
> 
> More than half of the Howling Commandos have man-crushes on Bucky. Awkward.
> 
> This chapter is rated Mature and features:  
> Bucky (POV)   
> Steve  
> Falsworth  
> Dugan (mentioned)

Bucky needed air. Trapped in the bowels of the barracks, surrounded by steel and cement made him feel like a razor blade was dancing across the taut piano wire of his nerves. Dum Dum and his stupid antics had distracted him for a while, but every fix to Bucky’s anxiety was temporary.    
  
Then Steve had shown up and given him that fucking look. The look Bucky knew so well, the one that meant he had about 3 seconds to shuck his clothes and assume the position or it would be done for him. It had been so long since Bucky had seen that look, he’d almost forgotten about it. 

That look from his childhood friend Steve could result in skipped homework assignments, missed shifts at work, and lectures from Kate about how important it was for Bucky to check in and let them know where he was spending the night. Bucky could let New York burn to the ground for that look.  

But just now, he’d gotten that look from a stranger. This brick shithouse with Steve’s eyes and voice. This stranger who wanted to grab and kiss and--from that look--do a lot of other things to Bucky.

It repulsed him.

But Bucky missed his Steve. If there was anything of his friend still left inside that walking Star-Spangled Banner, Bucky needed to find it. That fit of temper just now in the kitchen--the way Steve’s nostrils had flared and he’d gnashed his teeth--had made Bucky’s pulse race. It proved that his Steve was still in there somewhere, somehow, and he was still as possessive of Bucky as ever.

There had always been an unspoken rule between them: they belonged to each other, but girls didn’t count. Steve had never been rude or unkind to the dames Bucky had dated, had never shown a hint of jealousy when Bucky left to meet a girl or even brought Steve along. But after the dates, that was when Steve’s real feelings manifested. More than a few times Bucky had been with a girl, he’d not been fully present, already anticipating what Steve was going to do to lay claim to him again when Bucky got home. Sometimes that was the best part, the perfect way to have his cake and eat it, too. More than once, Bucky had made up details of a date that had never happened just to see if Steve could outdo himself. He usually could.

This feeling of relief, of joy at seeing his Steve in the brick shithouse of Captain America warred with the revulsion Bucky felt at the new body they’d forced Steve into. It made Bucky angry beyond words.

On the surface, what they’d done was give Steve everything he’d ever wanted: perfect health, size, strength. But the Steve Bucky knew didn’t need those superficial props. Bucky’s Steve was fierce as a tiger in spite of his size. Bucky’s Steve had an indomitable, passionate heart that made him strong enough to carry the world on his shoulders. Bucky’s Steve had a personality bigger than the Empire State, and it shone more brightly than the top of the Chrysler Building.

By giving Steve these superficial traits that seemed to be everything--to make Steve feel like he was finally good enough when Bucky knew Steve had been better than good enough all along--they had left him with nothing. They had taken away all of the things that made Steve Steve, everything he’d spent his life learning to overcome and excel in spite of. To Bucky, it was as if the people who had done this had taken the best of Steve, scooped it out as garbage, and bandaged up the hollow inside of his friend with shiny wrapping paper. It might look great, but it had lost its meaning, its purpose, its integral spark. Bucky hated it. He wanted to find the people who’d done this and have a little talk with them, South Side-style.  

_ Sorry, that’s classified.  _

No doubt, they’d sold Steve on the idea by telling him it would be a privilege. The he alone had been singled out for something special. Oh, the talk Bucky would have with those guys, those ignorant fuckers who’d been unable to see that Steve was already so close to perfect the way he was.

Bucky’s eyes felt hot. He tossed the butt of his cigarette over the side of the building and swiped a hand across his face, surreptitiously wiping the tears away. All he needed was for one of the soldiers to catch him rage-crying and clock him as weak.

He pulled out another cigarette and felt around in his pockets for a match. Fire bloomed in the darkness to Bucky’s right, illuminating Falsworth, who quietly offered him a light. He leaned forward until the tip glowed, and then nodded his thanks to the Englishman. All around them on the rooftop, men were clustered in small groups, taking comfort in one another’s camaraderie, the smoke drifting up in great gusts, giving the space an ethereal feeling.

Bucky had come up here to be alone. He watched Falsworth without looking at him. It was clear he’d sought him out, and Bucky could feel it coming, this conversation he’d hoped not to have. He steeled himself, feigning nonchalance.

“Coming up in...a position of privilege,” Falsworth spoke casually, but Bucky could hear him choosing his words carefully, “I was sent away to the best schools. Schools for persons of privilege and pedigree--boys like me.”

Bucky couldn’t quite read where this was going, but he continued to listen quietly, burning through his cigarette. Falsworth dared to look at him, then, and something about Bucky’s profile made him pause.

Bucky had grown used to the heavy weight of men’s eyes on him here in Europe. He didn’t hold it against them; once they were back in town and found dames to blow off steam, things always returned to normal. At the same time, Bucky knew better than to just ignore the attention and let things run their course.

That was where Dum Dum had come in. As long as the longshoreman’s bedroll was within shouting distance of Bucky’s, there could be no forceful night visits, no ‘let’s pretend you are’s or ‘you remind me of’s. Bucky had devised this strategy after a handful of painful encounters--painful for his unwanted visitors. The worst had been the whole fireteam that had got it into their heads to try dragging Bucky off somewhere quiet. They’d been discharged (with injuries), but not before giving Bucky a good scare.

With Dum Dum close by, all Bucky had to worry about was occasionally fending off Dum Dum himself, which wasn’t terribly difficult. Bucky was his CO, after all, and the army had programmed Dum Dum to follow his orders. Not to mention Dum Dum would have rather eaten his favourite hat than have Bucky reveal to anyone that he sometimes got queer ideas when he was drunk and feeling lonely. Fortunately for Bucky, Dum Dum’s awkward fumbling never happened when he was sober.

At last, Falsworth continued, his voice dropping in volume until it was barely audible. Bucky resisted the urge to lean toward him in order to hear better. “Because of these circumstances in my youth, I have--one might say--personal knowledge of the abiding friendships that can form between...persons of similar interests.” Bucky glanced around the nearest groups of men, reassuring himself that no one else could hear.

Falsworth hesitated for only a moment before continuing. “I would have you know that, should you need it, you have in me an ally who understands the true value of discretion.” Bucky could hardly believe his ears. The Englishman was so earnest. Weren’t they known for being kind of aloof? Or was the man somehow using this point to express some feeling for Bucky which he, up to now, had kept to himself?

_ Oh, God. _

“More importantly, should you ever find yourself in such a circumstance which is unwelcome--”

Bucky glanced over at Falsworth without turning his head.  _Oh no._ He must have thought Steve had been forcing himself on Bucky last night. 

The Englishman’s words hung in the air for a moment. “Please know that I am at your service to remove any such. You have but to ask.”

Damn, this had gotten weird. “That’s...thanks.” Bucky struggled to find words that would keep things friendly without giving Falsworth the wrong idea. Bucky turned to face him. “I appreciate it.” He flicked away his cigarette, which had burned to ash, unsmoked, in the course of their conversation.

Now what? Bucky couldn’t stand here with Falsworth any longer, and he couldn’t yet bear to go back inside.

“Everything good?” a familiar voice asked from behind him, and Bucky was so relieved. Thank God for Steve.

_ Thank God. _ Bucky took his time before he turned around. The longer he waited, the longer he could pretend Steve was still that little guy from Brooklyn.

Falsworth nodded to Steve before taking off. “Captain.” Bucky sat down on the parapet and started to reach for his pack of cigarettes before he remembered.

“What was that about?” Steve asked softly, sitting down next to him. Bucky shook his head, unable to deal with it right now. “I’ll tell you later.”

“‘kay.” They sat together just like that, quietly staring in the same direction for a few minutes. It was nice. Steve felt calm by his side, a somewhat different state than the one Bucky had left him in.

“You get somethin’ to eat?” 

“Yeah. Not really hungry, though.” 

“You sure?” A lifetime habit of bribing and cajoling Steve into eating enough was hard to break. Bucky gave the brick shithouse of a body a visual once-over. “Bet you gotta eat a lot to keep that thing going.” 

Steve looked up at him, and Bucky realised he’d just referred to Steve’s new body as ‘that thing.’ “I didn’t mean--” he started to take it back when he saw how hurt Steve looked.

“No. Don’t.” He waved off Bucky’s apology. “The day you stop tellin’ me what you really think is the day we stop being friends.”

“Never gonna happen, pal,” Bucky reassured him with a pat on the shoulder. For a big, muscular shoulder, it was kind of soft. “It’s just...hard to get used to,” he explained.

“Tell me about it,” Steve agreed.

“I’m not gonna feel sorry for you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Steve tried to hide a smirk. “You do and I’ll mop the floor with you.”

“That’s way more of a threat than it used to be,” Bucky said, snorting a laugh. 

“Damn right,” Steve said. 

“Just…” Bucky tried to put his arm around Steve’s shoulders like he used to do, and found he could no longer reach all the way across due to the wall of solid muscle that was Steve’s back, and the fact his shoulders were so much more broad now. Bucky settled for resting his hand over the back of one of Steve’s brawny shoulders. “Gimme some time,” he said. “To get used to...it.”

The look in Steve’s eyes said he might have a few ideas for how to get Bucky used to ‘it.’ “We got time,” he said simply. And Bucky really wanted that to be true.

“Hey!” a soldier burst out of the stairwell, and Steve and Bucky stood in unison, facing him with rifle and shield ready. “There’s still hot water in the showers!” the man proclaimed somewhat anticlimactically. The buzz of conversation grew louder across the rooftop, and several men stood to follow the newcomer.

“Whadda you think, Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky was conflicted. A shower sounded amazing, and a hot shower even better, but there was the problem of hot stuff next to him. After the wood Steve had been sporting in the kitchen earlier, Bucky shuddered to think what might happen in a communal shower where there was nowhere to hide. “I don’t know, Steve,” he began, but his friend was way ahead of him.

“I’ll hold your clothes, if you want,” Steve offered, neatly solving Bucky’s dilemma.

“You sure?” he asked. Steve smiled, and it was the radiant Adonis expression that went with his new body. Oddly, it was having an effect on Bucky anyway.

“Maybe afterwards, you can hold mine.” Bucky assumed Steve was referring to his clothing, but an old habit inside him wanted to take it a different way.   

“Come on,” he breathed, heading for the stairs.

  
  



	4. Furnace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns:  
> 1) some upsetting details about what happened to Bucky  
> 2) sometimes putting clothes ON can be sexy  
> 3) laughter is an aphrodisiac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut begins here.
> 
> This chapter is rated Mature bordering on Explicit and features:  
> Steve (POV)  
> Bucky  
> Falsworth (mentioned)

Steve followed Bucky down the stairs. Part of him knew he shouldn’t be worried about what Bucky and Falsworth had been talking about when he’d shown up just now. Falsworth seemed like a good egg, and Bucky could take care of himself. But Steve had been able to tell that something was not all right about what had passed between them, and Bucky’s refusal to talk about it made Steve even more anxious. 

It had been really hard to sit there quietly just now and be a good friend, just letting Bucky work through whatever. Really Steve had wanted to pick him up and shake him or pin him to the ground and demand Bucky tell him what had happened. It was killing him.  
  
But Steve could do this. If Bucky needed thoughtful silence, he could give his best friend that. Probably. At least for a few more minutes.  
  
The promise of a shower in their immediate future made Steve all the more glad he’d found a quiet place alone to take care of business after Bucky had left him in the kitchen. Steve couldn’t even imagine what it would be like having to watch Bucky take off his clothes and get wet if he hadn’t already-- Steve had to stop that line of thought, because his new body was already starting to tingle. At least he’d arranged it so they would have to take turns in the showers.  
  
It was easy to tell they were headed in the right direction when they hit a crowd of men at the bottom of the stairs. The throng only got thicker as they approached the showers. Steve stuck close to Bucky in the crowd, far enough away that his body didn’t get worked up, but close enough that Steve could elbow guys out of the way if they got crushed or jostled. It wasn’t personal, just New York 101 for dealing with large groups of people in tight spaces.

As they got closer, the air became thick with moisture and eventually Steve could smell the steam. It reminded him of nights spent hardly able to breathe, bent over a scalding pot of water with a towel over his head praying for his sinuses to clear and his bronchial tubes to widen.

The smell of dirty soldiers and funky clothes didn’t add to the experience much. The more he saw, the less Steve wanted a shower at all. Of course, he’d bathed more recently than all these guys, so that was probably fair.

Bucky, however, seemed as intent as ever. Close enough to taste the steam, the throng formed into a semi-queue, and moved slowly but steadily as the men who were finished ran out of the showers and other men ran in before the hot water was all gone. “You really wanna do this?” Steve asked, looking down at his friend.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “Don’t you?” Steve made a face and shook his head no. “Coward,” Bucky said with the ghost of a grin. Then the clothes started coming off. Steve glanced around, thinking Bucky should probably keep his clothes on until they were closer to the end of the line, but it seemed the men around them were doing the same.

Suddenly, Steve was afraid to look in Bucky’s direction. What was his body going to do if it saw Bucky devoid of clothes in such close proximity? Just the thought of this had sent Steve scurrying off to ease the pressure earlier. But now it was happening, really happening--well, sort of. Being surrounded by other naked guys in a stinky locker room hadn’t really been part of Steve’s fantasy.

“Steve!” Bucky hissed, trying to get his attention. Steve looked down at him. Bucky was thrusting his shirt at Steve, frustrated his friend wasn’t taking it. Apparently he’d been trying to get Steve’s attention for a couple seconds already. “You said you’d hold ‘em, right?”

Steve took Bucky’s shirt, staring. A trail of ugly bruises surrounding still-visible puncture marks wound down both of his friend’s arms. Across his chest and upper arms was a visible mark from the restraint Steve had pulled off Bucky in the lab. Numerous bruises and abrasions were scattered across his upper body, like an ugly constellation in an ashen sky. Steve’s eyes found the “scratch” Bucky had described from the attempted stabbing earlier. It was longer and deeper than anything Steve would have qualified as a scratch.  

Steve was speechless in the face of so much concrete evidence of Bucky's suffering. He had grabbed his friend’s arms last night right about where the welt from the restraint was. He’d hurt Bucky. Worse, he’d reminded him of the horrors he’d experienced as Hydra’s prisoner. Was that why Bucky had pushed him away last night? A lump was forming in Steve’s throat.

He’d been so scared when he’d first found Bucky on that table in the lab. But after he’d gotten him out, Bucky had seemed okay… Steve realized he had not actually checked if Bucky was okay, had not even asked him about what had happened.

Bucky’s pants hit Steve in the face, putting a cork in his thought process. As he watched his friend’s backside recede into the distance, Steve’s eyes found more bruises and marks on Bucky’s legs and hips. And he was so much thinner than Steve remembered. Was that from being on the front, or being a POW? He could almost see Bucky’s ribs from here. 

Few of the men in the shower were untouched by wound or injury, but even some of those who were stared as Bucky passed by. With no communication that Steve could discern, the men in the shower--who’d been jostling one another wildly for room under the nozzles--all moved aside just enough to give Bucky his own bubble of space where no one would accidentally add a bruise on top of a bruise. For his part, Bucky didn’t seem to notice the phenomenon, he just stepped into the spray of water with his arms folded across his chest, and stood there.

Steve was still staring, trying to analyse each mark and bruise, to discern what might have caused it and who he needed to kill in repayment. “You going?” the guy behind him asked, and Steve stepped to the side for the shower conveyor belt to move on. His eyes were glued to Bucky.  If only it were possible to erase the damage by looking at it hard enough… Steve’s vision blurred. _What did they do to you?_

He was torn. Part of Steve wanted to rush into that shower and protect Bucky from everything in the universe forever and ever. Part of him wanted to just leave and hole up somewhere to get this rage and grief out of his system. The rest of him needed to talk to Bucky, or rather needed Bucky to talk to him.

Why hadn’t Bucky talked to him about this? Steve wracked his brain. Had he been unavailable to his friend? Did Bucky not trust him anymore? Could they really have grown so distant after so short a time apart? What could he have possibly done for Bucky to keep this secret from him? What could be the benefit?

Before Steve knew it, Bucky was back. “Gimme,” he said, reaching out a hand for his clothes. His other hand was holding a wet towel around his waist.

Steve could only stare at the marks on his friend’s arms and chest. “Steve.” Bucky’s tone turned dead serious. He must have seen Steve’s thoughts written across his face. “Drop it.”

“How--?” It was the only word Steve could get out around the lump in his throat. His voice was hoarse and cracking from the size of that lump.

“I’m serious. Leave it alone. Now gimme my clothes.”

“No.” Steve turned and walked away, accidentally taking Bucky’s clothes with him.

“Steve!” Bucky called after him, indignant.

Steve actually hadn’t meant to leave Bucky high and dry, he’d just meant to storm off to brood. He realized he was still holding Bucky’s clothes and decided his friend deserved it. So he kept going.

“Damnit, Steve!”

Steve picked up his pace.

“It’s fucking cold out here!” Bucky complained, following Steve into the stairwell.

Steve actually wasn’t sure where he was anymore, but wherever this narrow stairwell was, they seemed to be the only ones in it. He turned to face his friend, keeping the clothes out of reach. “Who did this to you?” Steve demanded.

“The tooth fairy!” Bucky tried to stare him down. “Who the fuck do you think did it?”

Steve’s expression softened. “Buck, why didn’t you say--”

“Why didn’t I tell you?” Bucky interrupted. “This is why, Steve. This right here.”

“I woulda told you if it was me,” Steve said.

“Oh, really?” Now Bucky was angry. “That’s something coming from the guy who volunteered to be a guinea pig for some wacko doctor’s experiment.” He stopped Steve before he could reply. “No, don’t tell me. That’s different, because you _volunteered_.”

“It is,” Steve said. He felt it was obvious.

“Bullshit!” Bucky spat, pointing at him angrily. “That is fucking bullshit, Steve!”

Bucky’s towel was starting to slip. Steve didn’t mean to notice. _Damn eyes_. He forgot what he’d been about to say. “Bucky…”

“What?” His friend asked, angrily.

“Can I put your clothes on?”

“They probably don’t even fit you anymore!” Bucky was so angry, he replied without really processing what Steve was asking.

Steve tried to hide a smile. Bucky was inexplicably more attractive when he was angry. “I meant on you.”

This seemed to take the wind out of Bucky’s sails. “What the--I can dress myself, asshole.”

“I know,” Steve said softly, taking a step closer. “But I want to.” He leaned down to whisper. “Let me touch you.”

Bucky’s eyes closed in that way that meant he was imagining what it would be like. “No!” he opened them, glancing up the stairwell. “We’re not alone.”

Steve glanced up in the same direction. His hearing and his eyesight were better than Bucky’s now. “Yes we are.”

Bucky was struggling to resist. Steve gave himself that much credit at least. “But for how long?” Bucky insisted.

“Let’s find out,” Steve breathed. And then he just started dressing Bucky without waiting for further answer.

It was a strangely sensual business. Usually the goal was to undress the object of one’s affection, but maybe, Steve thought, that was just being unimaginative.

He started with the torn, mangy sweater. Steve bunched it up in his fists in such a way that he could slip it over Bucky’s head easily. He laid the fabric gently on his friend’s bruised shoulders, sliding the flat of his index finger up the curve of Bucky’s neck. Steve wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s left hand, slowly raising it to push it into the left sleeve. Then he patiently tugged the sleeve up until Bucky's hand came out the other end. Steve smoothed the open front of the sweater over Bucky’s chest gingerly, being so, so careful of the wide red mark there. Bucky’s nipples were hard, but he shut his eyes in pain as Steve’s hand passed over his chest. “Maybe we oughtta see if there’s a medic can dress this scratch you got earlier--”

“I told you,” Bucky grunted. “I’m fine.”

Steve knew that wasn’t true, but he decided to save that argument for later. Instead, he stroked the knuckles of Bucky’s right hand with his thumb before tucking his friend's hand into the remaining sleeve. Then Steve carefully rolled the shirt down over Bucky’s pronounced ribs, sliding it across his abdomen and stopping at his hips, which were still mostly covered by the towel.

Bucky clutched the knot with both hands, staring downward at about a 45 degree angle, his eyes blank or maybe just numb. 

Steve wanted to kiss him. Bring him back to life, to this moment, but maybe that would do more harm than good. Instead, he smoothed his hands over Bucky’s shoulders and leaned forward to whisper in his friend’s ear, “Where are your shorts?” Because Steve suddenly noticed, he was holding pants and boots and socks, but nothing else. Bucky merely shrugged.

“You weren’t wearin' any?” Steve asked in disbelief.

Bucky shook his head, his expression still distant. Steve wasn’t sure what to make of it. His body did. His body decided that easier access to Bucky was a great idea. Steve had to stop and breathe through his nose for a minute. _No, body, this is not the time._

“Aright,” Steve forced himself to move on. “Pants next.” Bucky looked at him, then. Just a split second of eye contact where he saw Steve and Steve saw him. There was a deep well of pain in Bucky’s eyes. Steve could hardly process what he saw there. Then, just as quickly, Bucky looked away and dropped the towel.

Steve didn’t know what to feel anymore. His body was going haywire, but his heart had heard Bucky’s scream from down at the bottom of that well, and he couldn’t just stand here and say nothing.

Steve knelt down and offered one pant leg for Bucky to step into. “Lean on me,” he said, and Bucky did, placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders to slip first one leg and then the other into the kakis. As Steve tugged the pants up Bucky’s legs, he noticed that several bruises on Bucky’s thigh were finger-sized and fell across his skin in a palmate pattern. Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from demanding to know how the hell that had gotten there.

Tasting blood, Steve drew the waistband up slowly, careful of Bucky’s junk when he reached the other man’s groin. He tugged the seat up over Bucky’s ass and quickly let go. Much as Steve would have liked to cop a feel, this wasn’t the time. Not when Bucky had that look in his eyes. “I’ll let you do up the front yourself,” he said.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, his voice a little shaky. Steve tried to look at him again, but Bucky turned his face away. He tilted his hips, wriggled a bit, and tucked himself carefully in before doing up the fly.

Steve was still crouched on the floor at Bucky’s feet. “I’ll put your boots back on.”

“No,” Bucky said, still leaning on Steve’s shoulders.

“No?” Steve looked up at him.

“I don’t--” Bucky shook his head. “I wanna feel clean for a little while longer.”

“Okay.” Steve stayed where he was, trying to find the words to close the emotional space between them. But what the fuck did you say at a time like this? Straining his brain for an answer, Steve took his helmet off and set it aside.

Bucky stayed as he was, staring into the distance, thinking something, maybe reliving something Steve couldn’t even imagine. Slowly he leaned down and rested his forehead against Steve’s before closing his eyes.

“Buck.” It was hard not to touch him. “Talk to me.”

But Bucky just shook his head. His lips moved, but no sound emerged. “...Steve,” he said at last. It was barely a breath. It had sounded like the tail-end of a request, but a request for what? Steve watched Bucky’s lips like a hawk for the answer. Then he saw them form the words again: “kiss me.” And Steve didn’t need to hear it out loud.

He lifted his chin to change the angle of his face to Bucky’s. Then slowly, so slowly in case he’d misunderstood or Bucky changed his mind, he closed the space between them and pressed his lips to Bucky’s.

It was the most chaste of kisses, but Steve was fine with it. He could feel the warmth emanating from Bucky’s body through the velvet softness of his lips. The scent of Bucky’s skin was more faint now after the shower, but Steve could still smell it. He was extra careful not to grab or jar Bucky this time. Instead, Steve was patient. So patient.

He held his lips against Bucky’s, waiting, trying to read his friend’s feelings through the thin layer of skin, trying somehow to communicate that it was all right, that he understood now. Bucky’s fingers had barely brushed against Steve’s cheek when there was noise beyond the stairwell door. Bucky jumped away like a startled deer, suddenly several feet away. A group of soldiers came through, glanced at the two men as they passed, and disappeared upstairs. It really was going to be hell trying to get some privacy from here on out.

Steve sat down on the stairs and waved Bucky over. “C’mere. I know your feet gotta be getting cold.” Bucky stood on one foot, chaffing the other against his leg.

“Kinda.” Steve patted the stair next to him, and Bucky came over. He climbed the stairs past Steve--careful not to touch him on the way there--then sat down a couple above Steve. Funny how he kept positioning himself so that he was taller.

Steve held out a hand. “Gimme.” Gingerly, Bucky reached a foot out to Steve, who promptly grabbed it and tucked it under his leather jacket. “Other one,” Steve demanded, and did the same with that one.

After a moment, Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “Holy crap, Steve, how are you so warm?”

Steve shrugged. “I think my metabolism burns three or four times hotter now or something.”

Bucky was not amused. “You say that like it’s no big deal.”

“It’s not,” Steve insisted. Bucky looked like he was about to reply with the most cutting of remarks, but at the last minute, his face contorted and he sneezed.

Steve gave him a hard look. “Your hair’s still wet.”

“So?” Bucky asked, wiping his nose on one sleeve.

Steve grimaced. “You honestly gonna pretend like you haven’t given me the business for walkin' around with wet hair once a day my whole life?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get sick,” Bucky said, defensive.

“Exactly.” Steve stared meaningly at Bucky.

“Whadda you want me to do, Steve?” Bucky asked. “They’re all out of towels.”

Steve thought for a moment. Oh, he was never going to live this down, but if it kept Bucky from catching cold… He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his hood.

“What the fuck is that?” Bucky asked.

“It’s uh...part of the costume,” Steve hedged. “Just put it on. It’ll keep your head warm.”

“Wait, wait.” Bucky refused to take the hood from Steve. “You came to Nazi territory in a costume? For what? Disguise? Trick or treat?”

Steve grimaced. “Well, no. See, the show was about to go back on when--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Bucky motioned for Steve to hold up. “Go back one. Show?”

Steve sighed. There was no getting out of this. “Okay, so. Before I came here I was in a show--”

“Like a Broadway show?” Bucky asked.

“No,” Steve grimaced. “More like Carnegie Hall.”

“Wait, what-- Like with chorus girls, Rockettes and shit?”

Steve was chagrined. “Only about 20 of ‘em.”

“Twenty!?” Bucky’s eyes lit up. “Did you make it with any of ‘em?”

“Bucky!” Steve looked disgusted. “Would you just put the damn thing on?”

“Okay, but seriously, you did a show with 20 chorus girls and never even asked one out?” He tugged the hood on awkwardly, and came out the other end a bit wrong. Steve reached up to adjust it for him, settling the mask over Bucky’s eyes and fluffing his Mercury wings. Steve had expected the mask to look as ridiculous on Bucky as it did on him, but on Bucky it just looked...cute. Kate had always accused Bucky of the ability to make any clothes look good. After this, Steve thought she might be onto something.

“Not really,” Steve returned to the topic of chorus girls. Of course, he’d learned the hard way that not asking a girl out didn’t mean you didn’t go out with a girl. “I mean, I went on a few dates…” Bucky whistled, nudging Steve suggestively. “...but nothin ever came of it.”

“What?” Bucky was incredulous. “Steve. When you go out with a chorus girl, you gotta make something come of it.” His intonation was so suggestive, it made Steve blush.

“No, I  mean. I liked the girls and all, but it was just never…”

“Hard?” Bucky suggested, impishly. Steve was not amused.

“It was kinda like dating one of your sisters.”

Bucky’s mood shifted on a dime. “You better not be dating one of my sisters, Steven Grant Rogers!” he threatened, balling one hand into a fist.

“Whoa!” Steve grabbed Bucky’s wrist before he got punched. “I would never date your sisters. That’s my point.”

“Oh.” Bucky sounded both relieved and disappointed. He rolled his shoulders. “All right, wait.” He reached up and felt the hood, trying to make out what it looked like by feel. “So where’s the rest of the costume?”

Steve half turned and opened his leather jacket, flashing Bucky the star and stripes.

“Holy--!” The look on Bucky’s face told Steve he was in for months of teasing. “All right, stand up and show me the whole thing.”

Steve stood and turned around to face Bucky, tossing the jacket aside with an embarrassed smile. He tried to steel himself for the jokes to come. Bucky just stared. “Holy shit, it’s like they painted the flag on you.”

“Pretty much,” Steve agreed.

“Wait.” Bucky tilted his head, staring at Steve’s belt. “Is that it?”

Steve visibly sagged. “Buck, don’t make me--”

“Oh my God!” Bucky’s eyes lit up with mischievous glee. “There’s pants, too, isn’t there?”

“Please,” Steve whined.

“Oh my God it’s not pants!” Bucky guessed, and broke out laughing. It was the happiest Steve had seen him since they’d reunited, and he couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Oh yeah, you really wanna see that bad?” Steve asked. “Here, lemme show you!” He turned around and dropped his pants, “mooning” Bucky with only the tights on.

Bucky kicked his bare feet, rolling around on the stairs with laughter. He sounded like he could barely breathe. “Fucking...tights!”

Steve kicked his pants off and did a ballet leap. “Hah! No, oh shit! Stop, I’m gonna piss myself!”

Steve did a pirouette. Tears were running down Bucky’s face. “Oh my God!” he wheezed. “Stop it!” Steve just kept spinning around and around. If acting like a goof could chase away that look from Bucky’s eyes, Steve could do this all day.

“Come here, goddamnit!” Bucky demanded at last. “My feet are cold.”

“Then put your boots back on,” Steve suggested.

“I don’t want to,” Bucky frowned, collapsed back over the stairs like a wet noodle. Steve walked over and grabbed Bucky’s socks.

“You big baby.”

“No!” Bucky protested when Steve started pushing his socks back on.

“Come on, jerk.” Steve kept going, in spite of the kicking and flailing Bucky was doing.

“No!” his friend whined. “I been wearin' those things for three weeks!”

“Just one more day won’t kill you,” Steve told him.

“Wait,” Bucky had an idea. “Let me wear your tights!” He burst into new gales of laughter, pounding the stairs and wiping his eyes as the mirth overflowed again.

“You’re an asshole,” Steve told him, calmly.

“You’re a fucken punk in tights!” Bucky’s laughter sailed up the stairwell like a flock of raucous birds. Steve just shook his head and shunted Bucky’s socks back on.

“You’re no fun,” Bucky said.

“Shuddup or I’ll make you wear ‘em for real,” Steve threatened. Bucky was quiet for a moment, perhaps considering how genuine a threat that might be.

Steve dragged his pants back on and shrugged into his jacket before sitting back down on the stairs. This time he sat in front of Bucky, between his knees so that he could wrap Bucky’s legs around him and hide his friend’s cold sock feet under his jacket. Behind him, Bucky leaned forward to rest his chin on top of Steve’s head. It was the closest they’d been to an embrace since escaping Hydra. Steve’s hands rubbed Bucky’s feet to get them warm again.

“Jesus,” Bucky exclaimed. “You’re like a furnace.” He snuggled in a bit closer. 

“Thanks? I guess,” Steve replied.

“C’mon,” Bucky said, his eyelids getting heavy. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What?” As far as Steve was concerned, they were just getting settled.

“This place is giving me the creeps,” Bucky said. “I need some air.”

Steve turned to look at him. Bucky was glancing up the stairwell for a way out, wearing an expression that bordered on desperation. In that moment, he reminded Steve of an animal in a cage. Immediately, Steve stood up. “C’mon,” he said. “Put your boots on.” Bucky reluctantly complied, and Steve gave him a hand up.

Out on the rooftop once more, a polar breeze howled past them. All of the men who’d been enjoying the open air earlier had wised-up and gone inside. Steve glanced at Bucky, who was shivering, but looked determined. He pulled off his jacket and tucked it around Bucky’s shoulders. “You sure about this?”

His friend merely nodded. Steve tried to strategically pick the place where they would get the least amount of wind. He crouched against the parapet and pulled Bucky down next to him. Since they had no audience this time, Steve saw no harm in tugging Bucky against him and wrapping an arm around his friend. Immediately, he felt Bucky’s body relax.

“God, you’re so warm,” he groaned, pressing up close against Steve.

“Buck,” Steve warned.

“Too bad we don’t have a blanket,” Bucky said softly.

“Hold that thought!” Steve said, jumping up and pounding back down the stairs. 

“Steve!” Bucky called after him.

There had been beds, Steve remembered. All in a row, blankets. Of course there were blankets. This was a barracks. It took Steve a ridiculously long time, and a hurried apology to the guy who’d been using the blanket, but he found one. By the time he dashed back up to the roof, Steve expected Bucky to be either frozen or gone.

But there he was, crouched in a corner, smoking a cigarette. Steve bridged the space between them with long strides. “Here!” he said, out of breath from the frantic dash back up the stairs.

Bucky held out his hands for it, the little wings on Steve’s hood flapping in the wind. Steve might have laughed, but Bucky’s lips were blue. “Shit.” He tossed Bucky the blanket and climbed underneath with his friend, tucking the ends around them.

“That’s not enough room,” Bucky hissed.

“Warm up first,” Steve insisted, wrapping his arms around Bucky under the blanket.

“Why is it so cold?” Bucky complained, moving close against Steve.

“Cause we’re in the Alps?” Steve offered. “And it’s almost winter?”

“Smartass.” Bucky tugged on one of Steve’s nipples in a way that might have been torturous when they were boys but now startled Steve’s body into immediate alertness. He gasped with how hard that one gesture had made him.

“Buck--” Steve tried to warn him.

“Steve.” It seemed Bucky was onto him, because an ice-cold hand was suddenly cupping Steve through his pants and tights. “I really wish I could put my tongue in your mouth while I do this,” Bucky explained matter-of-factly, opening Steve’s pants and yanking down the tights. “But that’d probably be a little too obvious in case someone comes back out here.”

Steve wasn’t sure what they were already doing wasn’t obvious. As Bucky’s fingers started to tease him, Steve realized he did not care how obvious it was. His hips twitched and he saw stars. “Holy mother of God!”

“Subtle,” Bucky said.

“Oh, Buck, you don’t know,” Steve whined, hips desperately rocking into Bucky’s grip.

“Whisper it to me,” Bucky said, and Steve tried to relax, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“First, take that damn mask off.” It was really hard to stay aroused with the costume staring him in the face.  

Bucky stopped to tug it off, carefully placing it aside. “Then you’d better warm me up, Furnace.” Steve’s arms slid around Bucky, his hands greedy for the feel of him. After a gentle exploration, they settled on Bucky’s ass, which was more bony than he remembered it being a few months ago.

When Bucky’s hand returned to Steve’s groin, he paused for a moment, tracing the length, suspicious. “Holy sh--...is your dick bigger, too?” he asked, outraged. Steve could only shrug apologetically. “Fuck you, Steve!”

“Fine with me,” Steve whispered, resisting the urge to bite Bucky’s earlobe. He waited an interminably long time for Bucky to decide if he was going to move forward or not.

“I’ll remember you said that,” Bucky purred, threatening.

“Do it,” Steve sighed, needing to feel the pressure again. “Anything you want. I swear to God--” Bucky’s fist returned, and Steve whimpered with relief.

“Don’t be so loud!” Bucky hissed.

“Feels too good,” Steve whispered, his head lolling as he thrust into Bucky’s hand. “I’ve wanted this...wanted you since last night.”

“Poor Steve,” Bucky cooed, his free hand sliding up Steve’s chest to pluck at his nipples. Steve had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, the sensation was intense, and far from bad.

“You wanted me in the woods?” Bucky whispered, cupping Steve’s balls and extending a finger to tease the sensitive rim behind. Steve groaned and bit his fist to keep from crying out. Then, suddenly, Bucky’s hand was gone. “Answer me, Steve,” he demanded.

“I did,” Steve let go, pulling his bleeding hand away. “Over that tree, in the grass, on a rock...anywhere.”

“And what did you want me to do?” Bucky asked, teasing Steve’s entrance with slow circling strokes of the rim.

“That!” Steve squirmed. “Please, that. Hnnngh. More that.”

“You’re dry,” Bucky said, fingers moving slowly. “It won’t feel good.”

Steve dutifully opened his mouth. Bucky glanced around to make sure they were still alone. Then his hand disappeared from between Steve’s legs, and Bucky slipped his fingers into Steve’s mouth.

Steve sucked them slowly, rolling his tongue around Bucky’s fingertips. “You evil punk,” Bucky breathed.

Steve merely nodded, still not releasing Bucky’s fingers. When he finally did, Bucky wasted no time pushing them up inside of Steve. It was torture trying to be quiet. Steve wanted to kick and shout and cum like a rocket taking off. When Bucky’s fingers nudged his prostate, he nearly did. Everything was so much more intense in this body. Steve didn’t know how he was going to take it.

“Buck,” Steve murmured. “Lemme touch you, too.”

“Not yet, Stevie,” Bucky told him. “But cum for me and I’ll let you spoon.” Steve’s thrusts became more forceful. It was a heady thing, Bucky telling him that. And it wasn’t long before Steve did, hard.

“Holy shit!” Bucky exclaimed.

“What?” Steve said, lazily.

“You just painted half the fucking blanket.” Steve chuckled. Then he opened his eyes and saw that Bucky had not been exaggerating as much as he'd thought.

“Holy shit.”

Bucky quickly flipped it over so that neither of them would be subjected to the wet spot. “Feel better?” Bucky asked, raising his hand to his mouth and casually licking off the mess Steve had made there.

“Buck, don’t do that,” Steve begged, feeling his balls tightening up.

“At ease, soldier,” Bucky chuckled. “Time to spoon.” He gave Steve a quick micro-kiss on the forehead and turned around under the blanket.

Steve grabbed his hips enthusiastically, and Bucky glanced back, nervous. But Steve just pulled him close, nuzzling the back of Bucky’s neck above where they lay curled together. “Too obvious, Steve,” Bucky warned.

“It’s cold up here,” Steve complained. Under the blankets was a balmy 98 degrees.

“You’re full of shit,” Bucky smiled. “Come on. Someone might come back up to smoke.” Steve reluctantly removed his face from the nape of Bucky’s neck. He refused to move away below the blanket, though. No one could see that.

“You want the hat back?” he whispered. 

“No I don’t want that fucking thing back on.” Bucky snorted a laugh.

“Sure you’re warm enough?” Steve was more worried about that.

“Yup,” Bucky said, snuggling back against Steve.

Steve whimpered. “Buck, don’t do that.”

“What?” Bucky asked innocently. “You want me to stay warm, right?”

Steve bit his lip, scrunching his eyes shut until he was back under control. Then he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and pretended that sleep was possible.

They lay there in silence, Steve desperately trying to convince his body that it had gotten all it was going to get for now, and Bucky...Bucky’s mind had gone somewhere else entirely. Steve didn’t know it until he spoke some minutes later.  

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice came softly.

“Yeah?” There was a pregnant pause.

“Thanks for gettin' me out of there.”

Steve’s arms tightened a little around Bucky. There were so many things he could have said, then: _You don’t have to thank me; you’re my friend; I wish it had been me on that table instead of you; I wish I could have gotten there sooner; I’ll kill them all for what they did to you; I’d die for you; I love you, Bucky._ But all Steve said aloud was, “You woulda done it for me.” 

Under the blanket, Bucky covered one of Steve’s hands with his own and knotted their fingers together. They lay there like that for Steve didn’t know how long. Before an hour had passed, Bucky’s breathing evened out, and Steve lay there listening to it, comforted to know Bucky had finally relaxed enough to sleep.

Steve must have slept, too, because the next time he opened his eyes, Bucky had shifted around in his sleep and was plastered against him for warmth, his face pressed into Steve’s chest, one leg thrown over Steve’s knees. What had awakened Steve was Bucky’s muffled voice reciting, “Barnes, James Buchanan...Sergeant… 32557038…”

Steve didn’t understand how it was possible to feel so happy and so sad at the exact same time.


	5. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Bucky won't talk, Steve asks some other guys tough questions with tougher answers. Jones is apparently clairvoyant, Dernier swears like nobody's business, Dugan is a big protective bear, and Falsworth is adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language warning. Language, language, language. You may go blind.  
> When quotations are in italics, they are speaking French.  
> Angst warning.
> 
> This chapter is rated Mature and features:  
> Steve (POV)  
> Falsworth  
> Jones  
> Dernier  
> Bucky  
> Dugan  
> Morita (mentioned)

After spending the night together, Bucky seemed to think he had to make up for it by staying as far away from Steve as possible. When Morita had come to get them for assembly around 5am, Bucky had basically thrown Steve’s jacket at him and disappeared. It made Steve cranky. Not that marching through Axis-occupied foothills in charge of 200 tired, injured men who just wanted to go home wasn’t cranky-making enough.  

When it was approaching 1000 hours and Steve had still seen nothing of Bucky, he put Falsworth in charge and jogged ahead to do some scouting (and thinking).

Why was Bucky avoiding him? It’s not as if Steve expected that they would hold hands and go skipping merrily down the trail, but what was wrong with at least marching within shouting distance of one another?

Steve’s jog turned into a run.

Last night, it seemed like they’d made progress, broken down some barriers that had been keeping them apart. But maybe they hadn’t. Maybe Steve had misunderstood. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. Steve couldn’t be mad at him. It was Hydra. Hydra had put Bucky down at the bottom of that well, where Steve could hardly reach him anymore. As if Steve hadn’t been determined enough already to wipe them out.

Steve’s run turned into a sprint.

Last night had been...okay, it had been a little weird. Sure, they’d done it in odder places, but Steve couldn’t remember a time when they’d fooled around and he hadn’t been able to kiss Bucky or reciprocate in some way.

_Bet you gotta eat a lot to keep that thing going._

Was Bucky...disgusted by him now? This was a terrible feeling, the not knowing. Bucky had told him he needed time to adjust to Steve the way he was now, but what if he never did?

Without really thinking about it, Steve ducked off the road and started climbing what had first seemed to be a rockslide at the edge of a small stand of trees. Ten minutes later, he realized it was just another face of one of the mountains. Steve stopped climbing when he reached a small plateau that gave him a good vantage point. He could see the troop coming down the road. Steve hadn’t realized just how loud the tanks were from a distance. Slowly, he did a full 360, searching for any signs of German forces close enough to create problems for them.

Steve startled when his turn brought him face to face with two familiar pairs of eyes watching him. “Oh sh--wow, I didn’t realize the two of you climbed up so high when you were doing recon,” Steve said.

_“You superhuman piece of shit; it took us an hour to climb up here!”_

Steve wasn’t really sure what Dernier had said--he was starting to think the man spoke no English--but it didn’t sound like a compliment.

“You, too,” Jones said in English.

Steve could never not seem to be awkward when he ran into these two. “So...looks pretty clear. You guys see anything we should look out for?”

“No, it actually looks like we might be good all the way to the border from here,” Jones said.

“Nice.” Steve wracked his brain for what else he might talk with them about. Then a thought occurred to him: maybe he could find out more about what was wrong with Bucky by questioning the other former POWs. It was worth a shot now that he had them where no one else could overhear. But how to put it?

“You know, as long as we’re all here, I gotta start gathering information so I can make a full report to the Colonel when we get back. Can you tell me more about what happened at that facility? I mean, you guys were all kept in cages, but like was everyone kept there?”

Instead of answering him, Jones looked at Dernier, and Dernier shrugged. 

 _“He wants to know what happened to his friend,”_ Gabe said in French, making an educated guess based on the fact the captain hadn’t led by asking about anything strategically important.

 _“Pig shit! He does not want to know!”_ Jacques was constantly doubting Gabe’s intuition. In this case, however, he was making a valid point: Captain Rogers would be better off not knowing what his friend had been through.

_“If you ask me, the way he looks at the guy, I’d say he already knows.”_

Steve tried hard to follow their French, but they were speaking so fast. Something about a friend and knowing shit.

 _“Then why the fuck is he asking us?”_ Jacques wanted to know. He was the master of big explosions, not subtle nuances.

 _“Because he doesn’t know for sure,”_ Gabe explained.

_“Why doesn’t he just ask the beautiful one?”_

Okay, Steve had caught that. They had to be talking about Bucky again. He was on full alert now.

 _“Most Americans don’t talk about stuff like this with each other.”_ There was so much that got lost in translation, Gabe was thinking of doing his Master’s thesis about it. 

_“Fuck you Americans! You’re so backward! I’m surprised you don’t eat through your asses and shit through your mouths!”_

Steve was utterly lost. But he felt like, one day, if he listened to the two of them long enough, he might recover enough of his high school French to follow along.

_“Hey, I eat through my mouth, you’ve seen me. Tough Irish kids from New York? Trust me, they won’t talk about it.”_

“Hey, guys?” Steve interrupted. “I’m right here. You wanna include me in some of this?”

Jones gave him a measuring look. “See, Captain, I’m gonna be straight with you, ‘cause that’s the type of guy I am. Dernier here, he’s a twisted little bastard.”

 _“Fuck your mother, you American cheese-eating bastard!”_ Dernier interrupted to defend himself, cursing as cheerfully as ever.

“He could dance around this topic with you all day if he was bored enough,” Jones continued.

Steve’s eyebrows rose, but he kept listening. Dernier gave Jones the two-finger salute. _“You are a potato with the face of a guinea pig!”_ Jones just laughed.

“Okay?” Steve prompted.

Jones gestured with his hands while he spoke. “Now I get you have to put some kind of report together about Hydra, but let’s be honest: what you really wanna ask us about is what did they do to your friend.”

Was it that obvious? Steve thought back to what Dugan had said about not being able to keep secrets from your platoon. He decided his best defense right now was to just nod.

“Truth is, we didn’t see too much,” Jones said.

_“That’s shit! From the moment he arrived we saw!”_

Jones looked at Dernier, and Dernier looked at Jones. Clearly there was a story here.

“Look.” Jones’ eyes held Steve’s. “I’m not sure you really want the answers you’re asking for.”

“Yes I do,” Steve insisted stubbornly.

Considering, Jones produced some rolling papers and Dernier sat down on a nearby rock, pulling a pipe out of his pocket. This looked like it was going to be a long explanation. Steve tried not to feel anxious as the two men rationed their tobacco.

“When they first brought in that group from the 107th, they lined them all up and gave them orientation. Jacques--Dernier and I had already been there a while.”

 _“Too long, those compulsive, clock-winding German pig-fuckers!”_ Dernier struck a match and sucked his pipe, angrily.

“Orientation?” Steve didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yeah,” Jones nodded. “That’s where they’d tell them how it’s going to be, and what they need to do to be considered useful.”

“Useful?” Steve echoed. “Jesus.”

 _“Animal cock-suckers!”_ He passed the matches to Jones.

“They give you a choice. Basically you work or you can volunteer to advance science.”

“What?” 

 _“This one’s as smart as the bottom of his feet. Be more literal with him.”_ Gabe tried to hide a smile at Jacques’ assessment of Rogers’ intelligence.

“They take you away to the labs and experiment on you,” Jones explained.

“So...that’s what happened to Bucky--Sergeant Barnes?” Steve asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Jones shook his head before taking a moment to seal up his cigarette. “Man, the story isn’t even that short. I told you, you don’t want these answers.”

“ _Poor anus.”_ Dernier gave Steve a pitying look.

“No,” Steve insisted. “I wanna know.”

Jones lit his cigarette before continuing. “I guess they were low on lab rats when the 107th came in, because they told them they were gonna need volunteers. Not all of them would be workers. So your friend, Barnes, he steps up like he’s gonna sacrifice himself to save everybody else.” 

_Damnit, Bucky._ Steve clenched his fists but didn’t interrupt.

_“Tell him how it was. Like a prime piece of beef. Like fish fresh from the river they looked at him.”_

Jones looked over at Dernier as he spoke. “The scientists, they took one look at him and they said no. They said he wouldn’t do, and made him get back in line.”

“I don’t understand.” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“That’s what they said in English, anyway,” Jones said.

“But you guys speak German.” Steve glanced from one to the other, getting a bad feeling.

“They said--” Gabe looked at the ground for a moment, deciding. “I’m really sorry. They said your friend had a face Schmidt wouldn’t like wasted. They said the doctor would have a different use for him, too.”

Dernier spat down the mountainside. _“All the gay orgies those pig-fuckers must have had while we were working ourselves to death!”_

“But they didn’t take him away?” Steve asked.

“Not right away,” Jones said.

“But eventually…”

“Soon as that creepy little guy laid eyes on him…” Jones shook his head, remembering it.

_“I thought Zola was going to soil his little cockroach trousers that day!”_

The muscles in Steve’s jaw were jumping wildly. He hadn’t caught the French and was kind of glad for it.

“That was the first time,” Jones said.

“Wait, they brought him back after that?”

Jones watched him carefully. “Yeah.”

_“That time he could still walk.”_

Steve looked at Dernier sharply. He’d understood all of that, and he did not like it or what it implied. “And then?”

 _“We protected him for as long as we could. But we couldn’t make him ugly.”_ Dernier shrugged. 

“And then...he worked with us for a few days...and Morita’s group. He’s a pretty good guy, Barnes. Everyone liked him.”

_“Everyone was missing their women!”_

Jones gave Dernier a hard look. “He was always trying to make us laugh. Blowing spitballs at the guards. Screwing up shipments on purpose.”

 _“Until they caught him. Animal cock-suckers never hit him in the face.”_   

“Even though he was just as tired and beat down as the rest of us,” Jones finished.

“That sounds like Bucky,” Steve said, feeling the lump forming in his throat. “Listen.” He cleared his throat. “I should get back--but can we talk again some more? Later?” 

“Sure thing,” Jones nodded.

_“Look at him! He’s about to weep but he doesn’t want us to see! Stupid American! We Frenchmen know how to cry!”_

_“Have a heart, Jacques. Imagine if it was your wife.”_

_“My wife is not a man!”_

Steve all but fled back down the mountain. He came back to the road just in time to fall in behind the tanks. Steve walked on the outside where he could cry in peace. The roar of the engines drowned out any sound he might have made.

“Steve?” He almost hadn’t heard over the roar of the tank, but Steve knew that voice anywhere.

“Bucky?” His eyes snapped up to find his best friend’s head peeping out the top of the giant war machine.

Bucky just stared at him for a heartbeat. “Steve, are you okay?” 

Damn him for always being able to tell. Knowing Bucky, he’d sensed something was wrong from INSIDE the tank. Steve knew he had to create a diversion. “Where you been, pal?” he asked. “I been lookin’ for you everywhere.”

Bucky’s smile was sad, and he glanced back down the way he’d come. “Dum Dum’s been teachin’ me how to drive the tank.”

“No shit?” Steve asked. “You guys want some company?”

Bucky looked immediately uncomfortable. “Not much room in here...tell you what. Why don’t you trade me places?”

It wasn’t really what Steve had wanted, but...maybe some time alone with Dugan could shed more light on his recent intel. “Well...okay, but. Buck?”

Bucky had been about to duck down and explain things to Dum Dum. He stopped. “Yeah, Steve?”

“Let’s catch up later, okay? Feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Aw, Steve,” Bucky joked for the benefit of the other men listening. “Did you work up a new dance routine you wanna show me?”

“Yeah!” Steve shouted back. “It’s called Kiss My Star-Spangled Ass!” He reached for his belt like he was going to tights-moon Bucky again. 

Bucky disappeared, laughing. Steve jumped up onto the tank and waited at the hatch for his friend to climb out. “All yours,” Bucky said, appearing one last time.

Steve reached down and gripped Bucky’s forearm to give him a hand up as he crawled out. It was their old secret way of holding hands in front of other people. Steve waited. Just when he was about to let go, Bucky gripped his forearm, completing the chain. “Keep it together, Steve,” he whispered as he passed by.

Easier said than done. Steve watched him go, making sure Bucky climbed down safely before he went in. “Hey, Dugan,” Steve greeted the big man.

“Captain Steve!” Dugan turned around long enough to cast a smile. “You wanna learn how to work this thing?”

“Uhhh...maybe.” Steve came over to sit down next to Dugan. The control panel wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before. “But, you know, I figured long as we’re both here, maybe you can catch me up on some of the stuff that happened back at Hydra.”

“Really?” Dugan turned to look at him for a second. “I mean, sure. Whadda you wanna know?”

“Well,” Steve steeled himself for more answers he didn’t want. “Someone else mentioned they kept taking Bucky--Sergeant Barnes somewhere else? And bringing him back?”

“Swear to God that guy’s got nine lives.” Dugan shook his head. “Every damn time they took ‘im, we didn’t think he was comin’ back. None of the other guys they took ever did.”

“They took other guys?” Steve wasn’t sure if this should make him feel better or not. It didn’t.

“Well, sure,” Dugan explained. “Anytime a guy was too weak to work or got outta line with the guards or...shit, any damn reason they could think of, seemed like.”

“Damn.” Steve knew these men had been through hell. He did. But that didn’t make the details of what they’d suffered less shocking.

“That’s why we all tried so hard to hide it when he got sick.”

“What?” Steve felt like he’d skipped a page. “Who?”

“Sarge--Sergeant Barnes,” Dugan said. “That last time he came back, he looked like hell. Half frozen, he was. Like they’d locked him in a meat freezer overnight.”

“What?” Steve was seeing red like never before.

“We tried to get him warmed back up, but he got weak fast. And we all had to work.” Dugan shrugged. “We tried to do it all as a group. Keep Barnes between us, but the guards caught on pretty fast. Bastards. He couldn’t hardly walk in the end.”

“And that’s the last time they took him away?” Steve was clenching his jaw so hard, he thought his teeth might crack.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Dum Dum said. “We tried to stop ‘em. I took on ten of those fuckers at once. Beat me till I passed out. Lieutenant Limey almost took a bayonet in the gut.” He shook his head sadly. “That was...almost a month ago.” He took a deep breath, remembering. “We thought he was gone for sure...until you showed up.”

A month? Steve felt like he’d taken a cannonball to the breadbasket. Those bastards had been experimenting on Bucky for a month?

Oblivious, Dugan turned to offer Steve a wide grin. “Thanks for savin’ my Sarge, Captain America.”

The glowing gratitude startled a huff of laughter from Steve, but he wasn’t smiling. “You’re very welcome.”

“Now lemme show you how this thing works!” And Steve spent another hour figuring out the controls that Dugan knew, which weren’t half of them.

Steve wasn’t ready to find Bucky yet when he was done. Coincidentally, Bucky had managed to completely disappear again. Steve tried not to be annoyed. Instead, he headed straight for the front. “Lieutenant,” he greeted Falsworth, who looked relieved to see Steve back after a couple hours of being in charge.

“Welcome back, Captain.”

“You’re relieved,” Steve told him.

“I suppose I am.” Steve didn’t get his British dry humor. “But I really didn’t mind.” Falsworth smiled. He continued to walk side by side with Steve, seeming more comfortable in the company of another officer than the men following them.

“Hey,” Steve was past the point of being subtle today. “This might sound like a non sequitur, but you mind if I ask you something?”

“Not at all,” Falsworth replied blithely.

“So I heard Sergeant Barnes was in that experimental wing of Hydra for a month. Is that true? Seems like a pretty long time.”

“Indeed,” Falsworth said, looking surprised. “We’d certainly given up hope of ever seeing him again. It was exactly 28 days before your arrival.” When Steve looked at him, he explained, “We made marks on the bars to count time. It wasn’t encouraging precisely, but I still felt it was wise to keep track.”   

“And he was sick the last time you saw him?” Steve asked.

“Pneumonia,” Falsworth replied sadly. “There was nothing we could do...though we did try.”

“Dugan said he came back with a cold the time before that.”

“He came back frozen,” Falsworth corrected. His eyes were distant. Remembering, his expression grew dark. “He said he’d pushed Schmidt too far.”

“He said that?” Well, at least Bucky had spoken to SOMEone about what had happened to him. Steve couldn’t help but feel jealous. Was this what he and Falsworth had been talking about last night?

The Englishman glanced over at Steve. Like Jones, he seemed to be gauging what the captain could handle hearing. “Sergeant Barnes was forever testing his limits with Hydra,” he said. “When he found that beatings were less severe on him than the rest of us, he began taking them for others.”

“What?” Steve was not okay with this.

“The guards...appeared to have orders not to harm him irreparably. More than once, I saw him step between them and another soldier they were disciplining.” Falsworth sucked a breath in through his teeth. “It did seem to distract them.”

Steve rubbed his forehead, trying not to lose his mind. “So...he took more than his share of beatings,” Steve counted off the points on his fingers. “He made fun of the guards and fucked up the work they had you doing to keep morale up…”

“Those often resulted in violence to his person as well, I’m afraid,” Falsworth said. “As to what finally drove Schmidt to suspend him from the highest window overnight--”

“He did what!?” Steve was shouting, but he couldn’t help it. He saw the look on the lieutenant’s face and knew it was time to take a break. “Excuse me, won’t you?” Steve ground out.

He went as far as he dared from the road. Then Steve threw his shield down and started punching things. He punched and kicked a boulder to gravel. There was a 40 foot pine tree to his left. Not for long. After Steve felled it, he tossed it like a javelin into a ravine. It didn’t make him feel any better. Steve threw back his head and screamed as loud as he could. Then he kicked another tree down.

“Hey, punk, what’d that tree ever do to you?” A voice asked behind him.

Steve swung around. “Bucky!”

“Who else is gonna follow you out here when you’re acting crazy?” he said, trying to smile and failing.

“Bucky…” Steve pressed his lips into a hard line. What the hell could he actually say? It wouldn’t change anything that had happened to his friend. And that was the absolute worst part of all this. There was nothing Steve could do.

“Bucky…” Steve tried again, but his chest was full to bursting with emotions that really shouldn’t mix. With a strangled sound, he fell to his knees and pressed his fists against his eyes.

“Oh, Steve.” He could hear Bucky moving closer, then suddenly his helmet was gone. Steve heard it thud to the ground nearby. Bucky pulled Steve’s face against his abs, letting Steve’s tears soak into his shirt. One hand stroked Steve’s hair soothingly while the other draped over his shoulders, holding Steve close.

“I’m sorry,” Steve sobbed, barely able to get the words out.

“Quiet, dummy,” Bucky told him softly. “You didn’t do nothin’.”

But Steve couldn’t stop blaming himself for not having been there.   

 


	6. The Difference Between Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Steve's not crying, there's another -ing word he'd like to be. It's pretty distracting.  
> Unfortunately, things aren't that easy anymore.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be explicit.  
> I swear, it's like herding cats sometimes.
> 
> This chapter is rated Mature and features Steve and Bucky only.

It took Steve some time to calm down. By the time he was cried out, he didn’t look so much like America’s golden boy anymore. His face was red with crying, and his nose had swelled a little. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he had snot on both sleeves from where he’d needed a tissue and tried really hard not to use Bucky’s much-abused shirt. 

They were sitting on a rock together, feet dangling. “Buck--” Steve began.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Steve,” Bucky cut him short.

“No, it’s--” That hadn’t been what Steve had meant to say at all. And the fact Bucky thought he was going to keep pushing showed just how much of a mess Steve had made of everything.

He took a deep breath and started over. Bucky had been through so much. Steve never wanted to remind him of it again. He’d literally rather die. “I won’t touch you again, Buck. If that’s what you want--”

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky said gently. “If you don’t touch me anymore…’cause of  **this** ...that would be the worst. The real, absolute worst part of it all.”

Steve immediately scooted closer to Bucky and took his friend’s hand. “Okay?” he asked, because Steve wanted to make absolutely sure.

“Yes.” Bucky glanced around to make sure they were alone. “But we gotta be careful, Steve.”

Steve leaned over to steal a quick kiss from Bucky. He couldn't help it.  
  
“I’m serious,” Bucky told him.   

“I’m serious, too,” Steve replied, watching Bucky’s lips, trying to decide if he should go in for a second.

“Just listen for a minute, Steve,” Bucky said, and Steve brought himself back, looking into Bucky’s eyes, and listening.

“Being like...how we are, it’s not okay here.”

He really was serious. But man, he had such beautiful eyes.

“I mean, it wasn’t okay in Brooklyn.”

Steve nodded to show he was paying attention. And he really did know all of this. And Bucky’s eyes were like a stormy sky where the clouds had all been blown away.

“But it’s really not okay here.” Bucky paused. Maybe he was making sure Steve really was paying attention.

_ Okay, self. Pay attention, _ Steve told himself.  _ Listen carefully. Don’t get distracted by Bucky’s-- _

“And it ain’t about disciplinary action or what the others might do to us if they found out…” Bucky paused to find the right words.

He looked away to do so, and Steve was left to study his profile. It was a great profile. Steve wished he had his charcoals with him.

“Right now you have the men’s respect,” Bucky said. “And that’s everything here. Here, respect can be the difference between life and death. Between a guy pulling you outta the line of fire or just turning tail and leaving you when the bullets start raining down.” Bucky’s eyes looked up at Steve and held his gaze. “You have their respect. Don’t lose it.”

Steve nodded. “I don’t really care about their respect, though,” he said.

“Yes you do,” Bucky insisted, priming for a fight. As far as he was concerned, Steve had fought his whole life to get respect like this from other guys.

“What I mean is,” Steve said, squeezing Bucky’s hand, “I care about you more.”

Bucky shook his head at Steve’s stubborn sentimental streak. “I’m not the difference between life and death for you, Steve,” he said softly.

“Yes you are.” Steve’s voice was firm. Intense. He leaned in to kiss Bucky on the lips, and it wasn’t just a peck this time. He would have taken it further, but realized after the fact that he hadn’t gotten permission.

“Sorry,” Steve said. “Was that okay?”

The look of uncertainty was classic Steve, and it made Bucky smile. “Yeah.”

Bucky looked away then, but Steve watched his tongue drift back across his lower lip, tasting the kiss that still lingered there. “Bucky…” Steve was trying to think of a single way to put any of what he was feeling right now into words. Bucky’s tongue was distracting. He tried not to stare at it, teasing just at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“Yeah?” He looked at Steve, and, just like that, Steve’s focus was back on his eyes. The blue-black bags underneath them were worrisome.

“I wish we could just stay here like this...for a little longer,” Steve said.

Bucky moved closer and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Aren’t you eager to get back to camp?”

“No, it’s not that,” Steve explained. Thoughts of camp automatically summoned up thoughts of Agent Carter, and he wanted that. To see her again, very much. More than almost anything...except this. “Just...I have a feeling we’re not gonna get much time alone together again,” Steve said.

“You think?” He could feel Bucky grinning against his shoulder. “Surrounded by 300 guys? What’s not private about that?”

Steve gave him a gentle nudge. “You know what I mean.”

“I do?” Bucky glanced up at him innocently, his palm ghosting up Steve’s thigh, starting from his knee.

Steve twitched almost violently. “Buck. That’s not--this isn’t what I meant. I just like spending time when it’s just the two of us.” He shook his head. “I guess I was spoiled in Brooklyn. I ain’t used to not having you to myself whenever I want anymore.”

“You still have me to yourself,” Bucky purred, and it was like someone had turned the key in the ignition of Steve’s libido.   

“For now,” Steve said, carefully. Bucky might not know what he was doing, and even if he did, he might not want Steve’s reaction. Steve was determined not to do something unwelcome.

“For always,” Bucky insisted, leaning back against the rock so that he was looking up at Steve, propped up on one elbow, his other hand still holding Steve’s hand.

“Oh, Buck!” Steve sighed, practically throwing himself down next to Bucky. It wasn’t where he’d wanted to throw himself, but Steve knew climbing on top of Bucky right now would have been too much. So instead, he took out his sexual frustration by nearly knocking his teeth out on the rock, landing face-down.

“Steve!” Bucky turned him over to make sure he was okay. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” Steve choked back his lust. “I’m fine.” Bucky’s eyes roamed slowly down Steve’s body, pausing at Steve’s fly.

“Really?” His voice was incredulous.

“Totally fine,” Steve insisted in a near-squeak.

“Steve,” Bucky said calmly. “You know I can force you to tell the truth.”

Steve released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, “Oh God, Buck, it’s hard in this body.”

“I can see that,” Bucky said pointedly.

“No, it’s--” And just knowing Bucky was looking at his erection was making it impossibly harder still. “I mean, everything’s so sensitive now.”

“Yeah?” The curiosity in Bucky’s voice spelled doom. He let go of Steve’s hand to slide his palm over Steve’s chest, and Steve groaned. “So?” Bucky leaned casually across his prone body. “What’s the problem?”

Steve pressed his lips together, summoning all his restraint. “I don’t wanna touch you.”

“What?”

That might have come out wrong, Steve realized.

“Why not?” Bucky asked.

“No, I DO wanna touch you.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s tone was an invitation.

“...so bad, Buck. You don’t even know. Only--I don’t wanna do somethin’ you don’t want.”

“Well, how do you know I don’t want it?” Bucky asked rationally.

Steve had to think about that one. Rationale was in short supply in Steve's brain just now. “I don’t know?” Steve replied, uncertain.

“So how ‘bout if you ask?” Bucky suggested. “Unless you wanna just give up on me instead.”

“No!” Steve sat up, desperate to show Bucky he did not want that. From the wolfish grin on his friend’s face, it looked like Bucky already knew that, though. “I--I can ask,” he replied, hesitantly.

“Okay.” Bucky lay back down next to him. “Why don’t you tell me what you wanna do to me, and I’ll say yes or no.” There was an impish look in Bucky's eyes that Steve found hard to resist.

Steve bit his lip. This sounded like a dangerous game. A dangerous game he really wanted to play. It was okay if the men got back to camp before them, right?

“I want,” Steve breathed, looking up at the sky because if he looked at Bucky it would be harder not to do it  _ right now _ . “I wanna pull you close so I can feel every inch of you against every inch of me.”

A silence followed. When Steve looked to see why, he saw the unhappiness on Bucky’s face. He could tell his friend was trying to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t hurt Steve’s feelings. “It’s okay!” Steve reassured him. “You gotta be able to say no.” He reached up and cradled Bucky’s cheek with one hand. “It’s okay, Buck.”

Bucky looked sadder still, glancing away from the forgiveness in Steve’s eyes. “I...you feel different now...I…”

Steve leaned up to gently kiss him quiet. There was no need for Bucky to explain; he owed him no explanations.

“What else?” Bucky asked, shutting his eyes like he was pushing the pain down deeper where Steve couldn’t see.

“I guess kissing is okay,” Steve observed.

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled a little. It was a sad, weak smile, but it was still a smile. “You can kiss me any time, as hard as you want.”

But Steve didn’t want to kiss Bucky hard right now. He leaned in to just brush his lips against Bucky’s, applying more pressure little by little until he could move his own against Bucky’s lips, causing them to part. When their tongues met, it was like fireworks in Steve’s brain. He wanted to touch Bucky, too, but that would require not kissing long enough to ask, so he didn’t. He just kissed Bucky for all he was worth. A thrill shot through Steve when Bucky placed his hands on either side of Steve’s jaw and he felt his friend’s body move closer.

“Tie me up.” 

“What?” Bucky leaned back to look at him. 

Steve’s expression was full of longing and guilt. “It’s really hard not to touch you.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t touch me,” Bucky said, looking a bit wild-eyed.

“Okay,” Steve said, ”But I gotta ask first, and I’m not sure I can do that, Buck. Not when I get excited.”

Bucky paused, his lips curving mischievously. “Am I getting you excited, Steve?”

“Hell yes,” Steve growled.

“Poor Steve,” Bucky teased, gripping him by the wrists and tugging Steve’s arms behind his back. “What shall I tie you up with?”

Steve thought for a moment. “Shoelaces?”

“All right.” Conveniently, Steve’s boots didn’t have laces. He lay there, watching while Bucky stood and bent down to unlace his. He was just contemplating planting his teeth in his friend’s backside when Bucky returned.

“C’mere, Steve.” Steve slid off the rock and stood in front of Bucky with his hands still held behind his back. “You want ‘em in front or in back?” Bucky asked.

“Wherever you want ‘em,” Steve said.

“We’ll start easy,” Bucky said. “You haven’t been bad yet.” He pulled Steve’s arms in front and carefully wrapped his boot laces around Steve’s wrists and forearms. Steve watched the criss-cross pattern form, his heart beating faster as Bucky neared the end. He tested the bindings a little and found he could still move his hands, but not much.

“Bucky…” Steve’s voice was somewhere between wistful and needy.

“Yes, Steve?” Bucky was finishing the knots, his eyes focused on what he was doing.

“I want you so bad.”

“I know, Stevie.” Bucky looked up at him then with this stern schoolmaster-like expression that made Steve’s face burn. “That’s why you had me do this, right?” Steve could only nod. “You wanna sit down?”

“‘kay.” Steve looked around for a way to sit that didn’t require levering himself down without the use of his arms.

He was about to just sit on the ground when Bucky said, “Come,” and tugged on Steve’s bindings to pull him in a different direction. Hot damn was this making Steve’s dick hard. He felt like he was about to tear a hole through his tights.

Bucky towed him underneath one of the big, spreading pines with a thick bed of pine needles around it. “Over here,” Bucky told him, leading Steve toward the trunk of the tree.

“Now,” he said, leaning back against the trunk. It didn’t look comfortable--the bark was all scratchy-looking and peeling away in spots. But it was what Bucky seemed to want, so Steve started to sink down to sit on the ground--only to get jerked forward by the lapels of his leather jacket.

Off-balance, Steve fell forward, his protest quickly muffled by Bucky’s lips. And then there was no more protesting.

It was an awkward position. Once more, Steve found himself “shorter” than Bucky. He rested his bound hands against Bucky’s chest for balance, tilting his head up to kiss Bucky the way they used to do when Steve was a head shorter.

He let Bucky take control of everything, trying to think of how to get his feet underneath him without a) ruining the mood and b) suddenly regaining his height--which really seemed to bother his friend.  

Bucky grunted and came up for air. “Christ, Dum Dum wasn’t kidding. You’re fuckin’ heavy now.”

Steve shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t ask you to hold my weight, Buck.”

The flash of anger in his eyes was the fighting kind, not the making out kind. “But I used to be able to, Steve. I used to be able to pick you up, even.”

“I hated it when you picked me up,” Steve whined.

“Yeah, but I could DO it,” Bucky insisted. “Now...Jesus Christ.” He pushed Steve back to his feet with a visible effort before letting go, just sagging back against the tree trunk.

“I bet I could lift  _ you _ now,” Steve offered, trying to be helpful.

“Fuck you, Steve,” Bucky spat.

“I’m tryin…” Steve hit him with the puppy eyes. Bucky could never resist the puppy eyes.

“Why’d you do it? Can you at least tell me that? Or is that classified, too?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, getting further and further away from “in the mood.” So much for puppy eyes.

“‘cause...you were here. And I couldn’t be without you.”

Bucky’s expression softened. “Is that really why?”

“I couldn’t be the only guy left in New York.”

There went the softer expression. “So it was your pride. Again.” Bucky punched him in the shoulder. Hard. “You fuckin’ volunteered to be a government lab rat because of your goddamned short guy complex.”

“I don’t got a short guy complex,” Steve said, defensive.

“No, now you’re a big guy with a short guy complex.” Bucky mimed dusting off his hands. “Problem solved!”

“Buck.” Steve’s eyes were begging him. “I don’t wanna fight.”

“Gimme my damn laces back.” Bucky reached down and started to unknot the bindings.

“No, Buck. Don’t!”

“I swear to God, I will tie you to this tree and leave.”

“Bucky, please.”

“Tell the truth, Steve!”

“Why do you think I tried so hard to enlist?” Steve panted with the effort it took to confess. Bucky paused, looking up to see if he was being sincere or not. “They turned me down over and over again, but I didn’t give up. Why? Why do you think?”

“Because you’re a stubborn asshole,” Bucky said, his voice challenging.

“Because I was afraid you were gonna come over here and die and I’d never see you again!” Steve’s gaze was steady when he met Bucky’s eyes. Surely his friend could see the truth there.

“AND you’re a stubborn asshole.”

“And I’m a stubborn asshole who loves y--” Steve realized what he was saying just as he was saying it. He stopped, backpedaling wildly. “Who...who wanted to make sure someone had your back.” Steve swallowed, audibly.

Bucky leaned forward and rested his forehead against Steve’s collar, saying nothing. Steve was worried. He’d said it. He’d said too much.

“I almost did die,” Bucky said at last. “I wished I was dead a few times.” The laces were loose now, and Steve pulled free, wrapping his arms around Bucky.

“I hate that,” Steve said. His voice was quiet, but inside he was screaming.

The silence stretched on. Neither of them was ready for this conversation.

“Admit it,” Bucky said, trying to sound light-hearted. “You just did it so’s you’d be taller than me.”

“Yup,” Steve agreed, fake-cheerful. “And for the bigger dick. Definitely.”

Bucky punched him in the ribs, but not hard this time. “Fuck you and your bigger dick, Steve.”

“‘kay.” Steve caught Bucky under the chin with his index finger and tilted his face up for a kiss.

“Not now, Steve,” Bucky said when he let go.

“‘kay. But later?” Maybe there was still hope, Steve thought.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, worry lines visible on his brow. His hands had been resting on Steve’s hips, but now he tucked them against his own ribs, like he was hugging himself within Steve’s embrace.

“It’s all right, Buck,” Steve told him. “We don’t have to do that...ever, if you don’t want to. But…” Steve bit his lip. “Can I touch you now?”

“You ain’t touchin me right now?” Bucky asked.

Steve supposed he was, but he had something more specific in mind. “Can I say hello to my friend?”

Bucky buried his face in Steve’s chest. “No.”

It hurt Steve’s heart. What else had Schmidt done to him that Steve could no longer do without reminding Bucky of his time in the isolation ward? “I’m gonna kill that bastard.”

“Me, too,” came Bucky’s muffled response. Steve just held him tight.

They stood there for minutes. Steve had to begrudgingly admit to himself that no fooling around was going to happen. Which was okay. But they’d probably better get back, in that case. “Buck, whenever you’re ready, we should--”

“Not yet.” Bucky turned so that his cheek was resting against the star on Steve’s chest. “Just. C’mere a minute.” Bucky tugged Steve’s hand as he sat on the ground and lay back on the pine needles. He pulled Steve along to lie down next to him.

“Buck?” Steve asked, uncertain.

“Kiss me, Steve,” Bucky whispered. “Just real soft and slow. Prove to me you’re real, and not just another fever dream I’m having on the table.”

Steve complied without missing a beat, perhaps too enthusiastically. His arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist, hands resting in the small of his back without pushing Bucky toward him. With as much restraint as he could muster, Steve proceeded to make love to Bucky using just his lips and teeth and tongue, being far more gentle than he generally preferred to be.

When Steve came up for air, Bucky asked, “You’re real?”

“Yeah, Buck.” Steve could  _ feel _ his heart breaking at the lost look in his friend’s eyes. “I’m right here.”

Bucky’s hands stroked the golden stubble on Steve’s cheeks. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I’m never leaving you again.” And then he kissed Bucky more firmly, to prove it. Steve could feel Bucky’s body reacting, and that was good, right? He wasn’t reminding him of Schmidt.

“Buck, please,” Steve begged. “Let me do somethin’. I wanna touch you.”

Bucky reached between them and pulled his shirt off, causing Steve’s pupils to dilate further. “Lips only,” he warned. “And no below the waist.”

Steve could do that. He started at Bucky’s jaw, resting his lips against his pulse until Steve could feel it, almost time it. It was fast, like his own. Then he moved on to Bucky’s neck. Steve had always loved Bucky’s neck. It was a shame not to be able to use his teeth, but Steve had promised. He kept going, pressing his lips gently and sensuously against every mark, every bruise, worshiping every last inch of Bucky’s skin with his mouth. When he heard Bucky hiss in pain, Steve gentled his kisses. His hands rested underneath Bucky’s shoulder blades, holding him, but Bucky never tried to pull away, not even when Steve found a tender spot. 

“I love you,” Steve murmured, pressing his lips to Bucky’s sternum.

“You’re such a sap, Steve.” But when Steve looked up, Bucky’s eyes were shiny. He leaned up to kiss Bucky’s eyelids, tasting the saline.

“I love you anyway,” Steve repeated, reaching for one of Bucky’s hands to tangle their fingers together.

“I’m cold,” Bucky complained after a moment. Steve shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Bucky’s bare skin before tugging him close.

“Good thing your best friend has a metabolism three times hotter than your average guy.”

They lay there on the pine needles, Steve just holding him while Bucky cuddled against him in silence. After a minute, Steve realized Bucky had fallen asleep again. “Jerk,” he whispered, stroking Bucky’s hair before planting a kiss on his forehead.    

“Love you more,” Bucky breathed, half-asleep.


	7. Horseplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a bit of fluff and snuggles, Steve gets full of himself. Seeing Steve's ego grow three sizes makes Bucky think getting full of Steve sounds like a great idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes joy-riding your best friend ends with joy-riding your best friend.  
>   
> This chapter is rated Explicit and features:  
> Steve (POV)  
> Bucky  
> Falsworth

Steve didn’t mean to wake Bucky. He just couldn’t stop kissing him. It felt so good to lie here together, even if it was on the cold ground with a rock digging into Steve’s ribs and the slowly decaying pine needles beneath them giving off a vaguely unpleasant smell. Steve was utterly distracted by the man in his arms.

With his face relaxed in sleep, Bucky looked like an honest-to-God angel. He looked ten years younger. Steve wanted to protect it: the vulnerable kid inside his fearless best friend. Forever. 

He couldn’t stop himself bending his head to kiss Bucky on the temple, the cheek, each eyelid, his chin, on the tip of his nose… Steve just couldn’t stop.  
  
Bucky grumbled, flailing like he was trying to shoo a buzzing mosquito, “Quit! I’m tryna sleep!” Steve caught his hand, kissing that, too, before tucking it back against his stomach where it was warm.

“Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve,” Bucky complained, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Tell work I’m gonna be late.” 

Steve chuckled, though it felt like a hand was physically squeezing his heart. He smiled tenderly down at Bucky. If his friend’s mind had taken him back in time to Brooklyn, to happier days, before all of this, Steve was not about to yank him back to the present.

He watched Bucky slowly open his eyes, and saw the moment of disorientation as Bucky realized he wasn’t in Brooklyn, they weren’t on the couch cushions, they were in Europe, at war, and Steve wasn’t small anymore. He was watching carefully, so Steve could have sworn he saw each realization hit Bucky in that order. Steve was about to worry it had been too much when Bucky groaned just the way he used to do first thing in the morning, turning his face to rest the other way against Steve’s chest as he would have done on a pillow. “I don’t wanna get up.”

Steve combed fingers through Bucky’s hair. “They’re gonna wonder what happened to us.”

“Hell with ‘em,” Bucky grumbled, shifting against Steve. Steve couldn’t help sliding a hand down Bucky’s spine. It felt so good to have his body close, especially after Bucky had shied away from it when Steve had asked earlier. “You’re warm,” Bucky observed, and tried to curl up underneath Steve’s leather jacket.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve said gently, hating to end the moment, but knowing he had to or they’d never catch up. “You can warm up on the run.”

“Run?” Bucky blinked, still groggy.

“Yeah. How else did you think we were gonna catch up to the men?” Bucky didn’t seem to have thought that far, which really told Steve everything he needed to know about what had gone through Bucky’s mind when he’d followed Steve off the road earlier to see if he was okay.

Steve watched the clouds roll across the clear blue of his eyes as Bucky considered what this would involve. “They gotta be miles ahead by now.”

“I figure maybe five or six, tops.” Steve had been calculating.

“Run five or six miles?” Bucky asked in dismay.

“It is kind of far,” Steve realized, looking at it from Bucky’s point of view. He’d hardly been able to walk when Steve had pulled him out of isolation four nights ago. All things considered, Bucky was doing great. That said, he’d maybe make it a mile before he dropped.

Bucky was just looking at him quietly, a silent despair in his eyes. Steve knew Bucky. He was never going to admit he couldn’t do it. Then Steve had an idea. “Tell you what,” he suggested. “I been wantin’ to do an experiment.”

Bucky looked at him warily.

“I’m still figurin’ out what-all this new body can do. Testin’ my limits.”

Bucky still looked wary, but now also a little confused.

“You know, like when I jumped across that gap in the compound. I didn’t know I could jump that far before I tried.”

“Steve, you barely made it,” Bucky pointed out. “I had to catch you, you were like two feet short.”

“Yeah, but I jumped like, 30 feet,” Steve said. “I didn’t even really have a running start.”

Bucky tried to guess what Steve was getting at. “So...you wanna set the forest on fire and see if you can jump over it?”

Steve laughed. “No. I wanna see how fast I can _run_.”

Bucky had been smiling, but at that he stopped. “But what about me?”

“I’m taking you with me,” Steve said.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

“I’ll carry you.”

“The hell you will!”

“On my back, like you used to do with me.” Steve was proud of his solution.

“But you were smaller then,” Bucky protested. 

“You’re kinda smaller than me now,” Steve pointed out, ready for it when Bucky punched him for pointing it out this time. “‘Fuck you, Steve,’” Steve said. “I know, I know.”

“That was when we were kids!” Bucky argued. “No fuckin’ way are you carrying me piggy-back now.”

“That was **two years** ago,” Steve insisted. “When I stepped on that nail on the boardwalk.”

Bucky almost laughed, remembering. “Only you, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled. “Good thing I had my best pal to carry my sorry crying ass to the nurse’s station.”

Bucky touched his cheek. It was a comforting gesture, acknowledging the shared memory between them.

“And now I’m gonna carry you,” Steve said.

“Steve.”

“Just for a couple miles, Buck.”

“No way.”

“Come on. I’ll let you off when we get in view of everyone, and we’ll walk together from there.”

Bucky considered, but Steve saw he still had his hackles raised. “If you _ever_ tell anyone about this--”

“I won’t,” Steve promised.

“I’m gonna deny everything.”

“Sounds fair,” Steve agreed. 

“And probably kick your ass.”

“ _If_ I tell, which I won’t,” Steve pointed out.

Bucky’s sigh was an admission of defeat.

Steve smiled. “C’mon.” He stood up, and started hunting around for Bucky’s boot laces. Why were the pine needles brown? He really should have thought this through.

“The fuck are you doing?” Bucky grumped, still waking up. Steve could tell the moment he realized his boots were across the clearing. “Shit.” Steve handed them to him.

“I’m lookin’ for your laces,” Steve explained.

“It might be a lost cause.”

Steve made a mental note to carry extra cord with him from now on in case he wanted Bucky to tie him up again. Scratch that, for when he wanted Bucky to tie him up again. Because he really did. “Found ‘em,” Steve announced, untangling them as he walked over to hand them to his best pal.

Bucky rubbed at his eyes, sleepy. “This was a shit idea,” he announced, as he started the long process of putting the laces back in his boots.

“No it wasn’t,” Steve said. “Just bad timing.”

Bucky looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh you liked that, huh?” Steve just smiled. “You kinky bastard.”

“Just lace up your damn boots.”

Bucky sat back, thoughtful. “You do it. It’s your fault the laces are out anyway.”

Steve bent down to start on one boot. He hid a smile at the look of surprise on his friend’s face when he did as Bucky had ordered him to do. Steve could literally hear the wheels turning in Bucky’s head, all the possibilities that lay before them. “But you do the other one,” Steve said. “That’s fair.” And Bucky did.

Once Bucky was fully dressed again, Steve gave him a hand up. His friend started to look around for what he could stand on to get up on Steve’s back.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve told him, putting on his helmet. “I got you.” He knelt down in front of Bucky with his back to his friend. “Come on.”

Bucky hesitantly leaned on his shoulders, and tucked one leg into the stirrup of Steve’s elbow. Steve grabbed his other leg without waiting, and stood up.

“Jesus!” Bucky didn’t seem to trust Steve’s strength, or maybe he just threw his arms around Steve’s neck because he wanted to. Steve preferred to think the latter.

“All right,” Steve said. “Count me down.”

“Show-off,” Bucky grumped.

“Come on. Count of three.”

“Onetwothreego!” Bucky blurted out in a rush, clearly thinking this would throw Steve off. But Steve knew his best friend better than that, and took off at a sprint the second the last word left Bucky’s lips.

“Holy shit, Steve!” Bucky sounded panicked, and Steve felt a sense of satisfaction as Bucky gripped his shoulders for dear life and squeezed Steve’s waist with his knees.

Steve wanted to experiment with how fast he could go, but for the first couple of minutes, he really just wanted to show off. He wasn’t sure how fast he was running, just that the landscape went zipping by as he dodged in between and around trees on the way back to the road.

“How the fuck are you doing this?” Bucky shouted as the wind rushed past, and Steve’s smile widened. When they got to the road, with no obstacles in the way and big ruts from the tanks to follow, Steve really started to move.

He felt Bucky mold himself to his back so that he wasn’t getting jostled as much, and Steve took a moment to congratulate himself on his great idea. If this was what it took to get Bucky to press up against him, Steve had no problem going for runs like this every day. “You okay back there, Buck?” he asked, figuring he really should check.

“I think I might puke,” Bucky said cheerfully. “You want it down the front of your shirt or the back of your neck?”

“What, really?” Steve asked, slowing down a little.

“No,” Bucky said, giving him a wet willy.

“Ugh!” Steve veered wildly to the side, trying to escape the man glued to his back. “Stop, Buck!”

“You’re feeling pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you, Steve?”

“No.” Steve reached up to try to wipe Bucky’s saliva out of his ear. “Maybe.”

“Yeah you are.” As soon as Steve pulled his hand away, Bucky licked his earlobe.

“What if I am?” Steve asked, wondering just what his best friend was up to.

“But is this really as fast as you can go?” Bucky asked.

“Well, no,” Steve said. “I got this lazy jerk on my back, see--”

Steve felt one of Bucky’s arms unwind from around his shoulders, but he was completely unprepared when Bucky’s open palm cracked across his ass. Steve might have leaped about ten feet at that. What had Bucky meant to do? If he’d intended for all the blood in Steve’s body to suddenly rush to his groin, mission accomplished.

At first, all Steve could do was run faster. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath to admonish Bucky--probably something to do with the blood loss from his brain. It turned out Steve didn’t have time anyway.

“Faster, horsie,” Bucky whispered, and slapped him hard again on the same cheek. “Hi-yo Silver!” Steve actually felt Bucky jog against his back like he was riding a damn horse.

“Buck!” Steve gasped, sprinting at breakneck speed, his dick as hard as it had ever been. “What the--”

“Faster!” Bucky insisted, spanking him again.

_Holy shit._ Steve was afraid he was going to pop like a cork if Bucky did that one more time. Luckily--though the term was relative--Bucky decided to lay off Steve’s ass for a minute, instead taking off Steve’s helmet to focus on sucking his right earlobe. “Ho my God!” What the hell was Bucky doing to him?

“You’re slowing down,” Bucky observed, whacking Steve on the ass again.  

A strangled whine escaped Steve’s throat. He felt completely out of control. This seemed almost dangerous, and yet he didn’t want it to stop.

Maybe Bucky felt safe coming onto him now that Steve couldn’t reciprocate. Was that it? Steve definitely couldn’t touch him right now in a way Bucky didn’t like. So was he finally coming out of his shell? Starting to get comfortable with Steve’s new body? Or was he just a sadistic bastard? Steve felt Bucky’s tongue slide up the back of his neck and almost tripped. “Buck!”

No, this was definitely dangerous. Steve was in the process of summoning enough blood back to his brain to slow down when he felt it: Bucky’s hips tilting to rub himself against Steve’s back. A second later, Bucky’s teeth clamped down on the back of his neck.

“Whoa!” Steve shouted. “Hold on!”

“Don’t stop,” Bucky whispered in his ear. Steve whimpered, but kept going. And so did Bucky, grinding against Steve and panting in his ear between licking and sucking every part of Steve he could easily reach.

For his own part, Steve was going nuts. It was torture to have to keep running while Bucky was doing this. It wasn’t that Steve had a problem with Bucky rubbing against him like this, but Steve wanted to watch, or at least stop and focus on the sensation so that he could enjoy it, too. It occurred to Steve that Bucky was currently aroused by his new body, and that intensified the thrill.

Bucky moaned, one hand sliding down Steve’s chest to reach for his glory trail. Steve quickly caught Bucky’s hand before it went any further. “Buck if you grab my dick while I’m running, I’m gonna trip and we’ll both break our necks!” Steve had come close already more than once since the distraction had started.

“Pull over, Steve,” Bucky whispered, and Steve immediately veered off the trail and began to slow his pace. “Pull over, I want to get off.”

Steve had not heard five more beautiful words since Bucky had left for boot camp. He headed for the nearest trees, wasting no time. Once inside the treeline, Steve glanced around, going slowly crazy at the feel of Bucky’s stiff cock rubbing against his back. “Where, Buck?”

“Anywhere,” Bucky breathed, moaning as he sucked a mark onto Steve’s neck.

“Okay, that’s it!” Steve let go of Bucky’s legs and turned with Bucky’s arms still around his neck, intending to push him up against something. But Bucky was already gone when Steve moved to kiss him.

He looked down in time to see his friend open his belt and yank Steve’s pants down. “Buck!” Steve gasped, and the next sound out of his mouth wasn’t a word in any human language.

Steve felt Bucky’s tongue and lips on him and every sentient thought fled his brain like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Steve could do little more than grunt and groan. He could barely keep himself upright, much less think.

“Nnn, Steve…” Bucky purred against him, and Steve watched him open his own fly and start to jerk off while he gave Steve head. Steve’s toes curled. Holy God was this intense!

“Buckeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Steve had lost the ability to make sense. He cupped the back of his friend’s head and leaned back, watching great gusts of his breath steam up into the cooler air. “Oh God!”

Just when he thought he couldn’t last any longer, Steve felt Bucky’s hand on his thigh. Then his fingers were inside of Steve, and Steve’s knees nearly buckled. He let out a long wail and held onto Bucky desperately, about to fall like a cut tree.

Steve came with a harsh cry and a series of grunted groans. He did fall to his knees, then, and noticed blearily that Bucky wasn’t finished. “Buck--”

Bucky shoved Steve forward on his hands and knees and cleaned the fuck out of his kitchen. Steve looked back to watch as Bucky stroked himself while he was eating Steve’s ass. Was his friend going to fuck him? Oh, that would be amazing, Steve thought. “Please, Buck,” he panted. “Oh God, please!”

Steve was hard again just thinking about it, and Bucky moved up to suck his dick again. “Ho, God!” Steve didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he was registering no complaints.

With a high-pitched whine, Steve rolled onto his side. “Buckeeeeeeee...” Breathing was difficult, which made speaking more-so. Steve reached for him and caught Bucky’s hips, tugging them closer. He watched, mesmerized, as Bucky’s fist moved on his cock. Steve leaned forward to just brush his tongue against the tip whenever it became visible.

“Oh, Steve!” Bucky’s hand immediately left off and tangled in Steve’s hair, practically yanking Steve’s mouth onto him. Steve swallowed Bucky’s length, soaking the abused flesh with his saliva and sucking enthusiastically. When he dragged his nails down the inside of Bucky’s thighs, Bucky started to fuck his mouth. Steve closed his eyes, finding the rhythm and teasing with his tongue the way he’d teased Bucky’s fingertips last night. With a shout, Bucky came down his throat, and Steve gripped his ass while he drank it down. A moment later, he let go and bit Bucky’s thigh, coming hard.

What a mess they were. All thoughts of where they were or where they should be had fled and stayed far from the moment as they each struggled to catch their breath.

“Hullooooooooooooo!” a voice called out in the distance.

Steve’s eyes snapped open. “Oh, shit!”

Bucky was already wriggling back into his pants. “It’s Falsworth,” he said.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Steve’s brain was only half-functional, but he did his best to put his clothing back together the right way, with him in it.

Bucky hauled him to his feet, and they hurriedly put each other’s hair back into place and wiped intimate fluids from each other’s mouths and faces. It was automatic; they’d done it a ridiculous number of times before.

By the time Falsworth found them, they were casually standing next to one another, looking fairly normal apart from the fact they happened to be standing in the woods doing nothing.

“Ah, there you are,” Falsworth came over. “I thought I’d spied you coming up the road, Captain. But before I could get your attention, you’d veered off. I say, is everything all right?” He glanced from Steve to Bucky back to Steve.

Steve tried to look casual. Unfortunately, being the fair-skinned Irish boy he was, Steve’s face was still bright red from the neck up. He adjusted his helmet. “Sure, of course!” Steve said a bit too loudly. “Just had to make a pit stop, you know. Water some plants.”

“Ah.” Falsworth glanced back to Bucky, whose Black Irish complexion was somewhat less telling; his cheeks were just a bit darker than usual. “Well, we’ve stopped just ahead to eat and rest. In the meanwhile, I thought I’d come back to see how you’d like to proceed.”

“How many more hours of daylight you think we got?” Steve asked, glancing at the horizon which the sun was rapidly approaching.

“Maybe two hours,” Bucky observed, squinting in the same direction.

“I would say Sergeant Barnes’ estimation is fairly accurate,” the lieutenant said.

“And how close are we now?” Steve asked.

“Less than three miles,” Falsworth said.

“So we could make it before sundown,” Steve said. He didn’t catch Bucky looking at him, his expression the sad side of wistful.

“Yes, I believe we could. It would take a last push of effort to make it, but everyone’s eager to get back into Allied territory,” the lieutenant said.

“Then what’re we waiting for?” Steve grinned.


	8. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You saw it in the movie; this is their triumphant return from Bucky's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hurts. 
> 
> This chapter is rated Teen and features:  
> Bucky (POV)  
> Steve  
> Falsworth (brief POV)  
> Dugan  
> Jones  
> Dernier (mentioned)  
> Morita (mentioned)  
> Agent Carter  
> Colonel Phillips

The walk back to rejoin the troop was not a little awkward. Steve was still basking in the afterglow. Even when his face returned to its normal color, his skin continued to radiate pleasure and satiety. Steve would not stop looking over at Bucky with his “we just fucked; I love you” eyes.    
  
Considering they weren’t alone, this was a problem. Bucky did his best to ignore Steve’s loving looks, marching with eyes straight ahead, wearing his stone-cold soldier face.    
  
If Falsworth noted any oddness between them, he didn’t mention it. In fact, the guy helpfully filled the void of awkward silence with chit-chat about the day’s march and how various soldiers were doing, what their priorities should be upon their return. Bucky kept quiet and let Steve respond; he was in charge, after all. 

“Oh, Buck, that reminds me,” Steve’s voice sliced across Bucky’s veneer of calm. “I brought you letters from home. Don’t let me forget to give ‘em to you when we get back.”

What a sucker-punch. Bucky had intentionally not thought about his family for weeks, and was unprepared for the sudden reminder. Now he wanted those letters. Badly. “From...from Mom and the girls?”

“Yeah,” Steve beamed at him.

_ Stop glowing, Steve. _

“Who else?” Steve asked.

Now Falsworth was curious. “Sergeant, you have er...children at home?”

When Steve laughed, Bucky wanted to punch him, but he kept cool. “No, Lieutenant. Three sisters.” He shrugged. “No kids I know about anyway.” That shut Steve up real quick. The look he gave Bucky was worth admitting the possibility, something Bucky had always told himself was slim to none. At least it had seemed to dampen Steve’s glow.

Falsworth nodded. “I must admit, I would have been surprised. You’re both so young.”

Bucky shrugged. “Hey, we’re not kids. I could have a family back home if I’d wanted to get an early start.”

“Plenty of girls woulda volunteered to be Mrs. Barnes,” Steve put in, his tone casually sullen in a way that pleased Bucky greatly. 

“I’ve no doubt,” Falsworth said, giving Bucky a strange, knowing look.

“What about you?” Bucky asked the lieutenant. “You got family waiting for you back home?”

They made small talk all the way back, which was mercifully not far. Bucky was hoping Steve had calmed down by then, but he made a point of touching Bucky’s elbow before going off to give everyone orders. Fortunately, no one else seemed to read anything into it.

Bucky headed for the tanks, wondering if he could guess which one Dum Dum was in. “Hey, Sarge!” the big man called out to him as Bucky approached. It turned out he wasn’t even inside anymore. Dugan came running up to him like a dog greeting its master. He handed Bucky back his rifle. “I was gettin’ worried about ya.”

Bucky patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I had to get our fearless leader back, and he can be a stubborn sonuvabitch.”

“Everything okay?” Dum Dum wanted to know.

“Oh yeah.” Bucky really should have planned his lie in advance. “Just stage fright I think, goin’ back to camp with all of us, havin’ to face the colonel.”

“He’ll be a hero!” Dum Dum declared, not understanding why that would make anyone nervous.

“He is a hero,” Bucky pointed out. “Whatever Command thinks.” Something that didn’t seem to have occurred to Steve--but that nagged at Bucky--was that, from the sound of it, Steve wasn’t an actual soldier, much less an officer. If he were, he wouldn’t have been traveling around in some show wearing star spangled pajamas.

That meant they might return to camp only to have Steve shipped back to the U.S., where American civilians belonged. Bucky hated the idea, but there was a possibility, in spite of what Steve had accomplished. Bucky had learned the hard way that the army did all sorts of shit that made no sense. It was part of why he wasn’t eager to get back to camp.

Another part was that Bucky wasn’t sure he could just go back to the way things had been after what had happened to him. He could hardly stand being in his own skin anymore. Acting normal was a struggle. To go back into battle, to have men’s lives relying on him...he didn’t know if he could be trusted with that anymore.

And what if the military wanted to run tests on him to find out what Hydra had done? It’s not as if Bucky could tell them. They hadn’t exactly explained to him what they were doing as they were doing it. Schmidt’s explanations had hardly been illuminating and weren’t worth repeating. To anyone.  

What Bucky feared most, though, was that when he got back, the others would be able to see. Everything that had been done to him. That he would be ostracized and reviled for the soiled, broken thing he was now. It made Bucky just want to turn around and walk back into the woods, disappear. But there was no way Steve was going to let him do that.  

His friend’s sympathy somehow made it worse. Bucky wanted to gloss the whole thing over; pretend like it had never happened. Never talk about it again. He wished Steve hadn’t found out. The pushy little punk. He could never just let things go.

Speaking of the devil, Steve came jogging over to them, and Bucky tried not to think of what Steve’s running had done to him earlier. “You ready?” Steve asked.

“Sure.”

“Come on, let’s head up to the front.” Bucky followed Steve, and Dum Dum followed Bucky. As they passed the men, Jones and Dernier fell in behind them. Bucky gave them a friendly nod. They’d looked out for him at the facility. He considered them friends. Morita and Falsworth were waiting for them at the front. The seven men fell into a rough formation within the formation. Oddly enough, it seemed natural.

“Final stretch, boys,” Steve announced, and started them off. Bucky tried to stay a step behind Steve so that his friend would stop casting those looks at him which, to Bucky, were totally obvious. But Steve would keep trying to walk beside him.

They’d hardly marched two miles when the first scouts spotted them. After that, the further they marched, the more men came out to see them. By the time they were outside of camp, a line of men had formed on either side of the trail, like onlookers in a parade. Just as they crossed the boundary line, someone called out, “Look who it is!” and the soldiers on either side of them started to cheer.

Steve fell back to walk next to Bucky and looked over at him with a smile that said,  _ We made it.  _ Bucky couldn’t seem to summon an answering smile, though he tried. Steve kept staring at him expectantly.

Bucky’s lips curled up a little at the corners. When Steve started to reach out for him, Bucky only just resisted the urge to pull away.  _ Come on, Steve.  _ But the smile seemed to be what Steve had been waiting for. He just gave Bucky a little pat on the back, very brotherly, very safe.  

Pretty soon, they were surrounded by too many men to keep marching. Their formation of seven collapsed on itself, and Bucky was pushed back between Jones and Falsworth.

Colonel Phillips, like the phlegmatic bulldog he was, elbowed his way through the welcome brigade to confront Steve. Bucky was so proud of him, though, the way Steve squared his shoulders and reported back, turning himself in. That’s when he knew the army wasn’t going to send Steve back to the U.S.

All around them, the returning POWs were greeted by their friends and comrades they’d left behind. Bucky watched Jones and Dugan talking excitedly and shaking hands with the men, embracing guys they’d never thought they would see again.

Bucky glanced around, feeling somehow confused and alone. It was disorienting, like staring into a faceless crowd in a dream. No one was looking at him.

“Hey, Sarge,” Dum Dum placed a friendly hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “We made it!” Bucky tried to smile back at him. He honestly wasn’t sure if it had worked.

But it looked like Bucky wasn’t alone. From the tight-lipped expression on Falsworth’s face, he felt the same. Then Bucky remembered, he was a British soldier. Of course he didn’t have any friends here.

“Hey, loosen up, you guys,” Jones told both of them, giving their arms a friendly shake. “We’re back. Quit lookin’ so serious.” Bucky felt like his second attempt at a smile was a little more successful.

He turned back to check on Steve and froze. There was a beautiful dame with him now--where had she come from?

Bucky tried to hear what they were talking about, but the buzz of the crowd around him made it difficult. 

She was standing close enough to Steve to feel his breath on her lips, and the two of them were looking into each other’s eyes like Gable and Lombard.

Bucky felt shocked to his core. He’d never seen Steve look at anyone that way. Whatever they were saying, it may as well have been sweet nothings from the way they were eye-fucking each other.

Sure, she was a beautiful dame, but she was standing too damn close to Steve. A bubble of panic started to rise in Bucky’s chest. It looked like they were about to kiss. Right here and now, in front of God and everybody, like a damn public declaration.

That wasn’t fair, Bucky thought. This was supposed to be Steve’s big moment, not some red-hot dame’s. “Hey!” Bucky realized with some surprise that he was the one who had shouted. “Let’s hear it for Captain America!” he finished, glancing around at the crowd and applauding encouragingly. Thank God everyone else joined in and started cheering.

Steve looked back at him for a moment, smiling proudly as men reached out to pat him on the back in congratulations. It was just for a moment, and then Steve turned the same look of pride on the POWs surrounding them.

Bucky smiled back until Steve looked away. Then he started to slowly fold in on himself like a wet paper boat.

He stayed as long as he could. He smiled as the men continued to applaud and cheer for Steve. But it was like Steve didn’t even notice. He was looking at  _ her _ again, and smiling like he’d never in his life been happy before seeing her face. Steve only had eyes for this dame, and nothing in the world seemed to exist outside the two of them.

“I gotta get outta here,” Bucky mumbled, starting to push his way through the crowd, forcing a path when necessary. He was barely holding it together.

When he was clear, Bucky headed straight for the tent he’d used to sleep in, only to find his cot occupied by someone else’s things, his footlocker conspicuously absent. “Well that’s just fucking great!” Bucky spat, throwing his gun down on the cot. “Carve my name on the fucking headstone already, why don’t you?”

He paced back and forth, fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette. He pulled out his last one, only to find it cracked and crushed from his earlier escapade with Steve. 

“Shit.” That was when Bucky lost it. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Sergeant?” A gentle voice asked from behind him. Bucky hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Yup--yes?” Bucky hurriedly wiped the moisture from his cheeks, afraid to turn around and be seen.

“I saw you leave…” Falsworth began, hesitantly.

“I just needed some air.” Bucky had to force the words out quickly before his voice caught.

“I have a light…if you need it...” Falsworth offered.

Bucky held up the broken cigarette. “Don’t bother.” He let it fall to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest, trying like hell to keep it all in.

Falsworth spoke softly, in that funny way he had of pitching his voice just above a whisper. “I can tell you about her, if it would help...”  

“What?” Bucky gasped out a laugh. “Why would I care about that?” The tears were audible in his voice, and he hated himself for it. “She could be the damn Princess of Wales for all I care, as long as she makes him happy.” 

Falsworth’s hand was on his back, and that’s all it took. Bucky bent forward, hiding his face in his hands. The Englishman said nothing, merely stood there offering a comforting presence. When Bucky sounded like he might hyperventilate, Falsworth handed him a cloth handkerchief and helped him breathe. 

“I don’t even have anywhere to sleep,” Bucky croaked, seated on the cot next to Falsworth some time later. He knew he looked like shit, but it wasn’t half as bad as he felt.

“Take my tent for now,” Falsworth told him. “You won’t be disturbed there.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked, one last hot teardrop falling from his eyelashes and splashing on his cheek.

“Of course,” Falsworth insisted.

No one stopped them on the walk over. The lieutenant held the flap open for him, giving Bucky an encouraging pat on the back. “I’ll bring a fresh basin of water. A cool, damp cloth over your eyes will help.” When Bucky looked back at him, uncertain, Falsworth nodded sympathetically. “Please. Take all the time you need.”

Bucky ducked inside, not trusting his voice, eager to be alone with his thoughts.

As Falsworth walked away, he passed the three superior officers on their way to enjoy a special dinner in honor of Captain Rogers’ victory.

He didn’t realize he’d been glaring at the captain in disgust until the large man turned around to look at him, perhaps having felt the weight of the lieutenant’s gaze. “Captain.” Falsworth greeted him with verbal respect at least.

“Lieutenant.”

“Agent Carter, Colonel Phillips.” Falsworth offered each of them a curt nod before stalking away.

“What the hell got up his ass?” the Colonel asked the other two.

“Do you have something against the English, Colonel?” Agent Carter asked disapprovingly.

“Yeah,” Phillips replied. “They’re not American.”

Steve offered Peggy his arm as a distraction. She took it as if it were her due. “Thank God for that,” she replied, sauntering off with the captain toward the officer’s table.


	9. Relative Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's unconscious summons up a few familiar faces to give him comfort in a dark moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This brief interlude introduces Bucky's three sisters, who will have bigger roles in future works. I hope you like them, but if you don't, my feelings won't be hurt if you decide to skip this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter is rated Teen and features:  
> Bucky (POV)  
> and  
> Falsworth

Bucky crawled into the tent and let his eyes adjust to the darkness within. He sat down on the lieutenant’s cot, feeling intrusive and burdensome but too hollow to stay on his feet any longer. He felt like if a decent wind were to gust through the tent right now, it would blow right through him, maybe sound a note in a minor key.

Bucky didn’t really know what that meant, just that sad music and jazz tended to be written in minor keys and he surely had some of either sitting inside him right now. Becky would have known what note it was; all of her music teachers had said she had perfect pitch.  
  
“I don’t know why you care about little Stevie Rogers,” he imagined her saying to him, running scales on the piano. Talking to Becky rarely involved eye contact. If she wasn’t practicing piano, she was doing one of her mile-long math calculations or plotting the course of Titan around Saturn.

“Come on, Eggs, he’s my friend,” Bucky said. Becky had always hated Steve. He’d never been able to figure out just why.

“He’s stupid,” Becky insisted, shifting up a half-step on her scales. “And he smells like VapoRub.” She wrinkled her nose.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You been smellin’ Stevie now?”

“Ew, no!” She looked up, glaring at him over her sheet music. “He leaves that smell all over the couch cushions when you have sleepovers. Maybe now you won’t have to have those anymore,” Becky went on. “No more stinky Stevie Rogers in our house.”

Bucky couldn’t share her enthusiasm at the prospect. “That’s hard, Becks.”

She shrugged, pragmatic. “Maybe now you’ll come home every night,” she said, looking up from her practice again. “I miss you, Dummy.”

“I miss you, Egghead.” Bucky wanted to sit next to her on the piano bench and fix her braid. Her mousy-brown hair was forever falling out of its plait.

But Becky wasn’t there. Bucky blinked at the canvas wall across from where he was sitting. Apparently he’d gone so far inside his own head, he’d come out in Brooklyn.

“Just back with water,” Falsworth called from outside the tent before ducking in. The Englishman blinked at how dark it was inside the tent. The glimpse his entrance had provided of the outside world showed Bucky the sun was setting, but there was still ample twilight to see by.

Falsworth took a moment to find the dresser in the corner, where he placed the heavy wash basin. “There’s a lantern here on the writing desk if you’d care for a bit of light.”

“Thanks.” Bucky made no move to get up.

Falsworth stayed to dip a clean cloth into the water, wringing it out before he walked over to hand it to Bucky. “If you place it over the bridge of your nose, it should help with the pain,” he said. Bucky gently pressed it between his eyes. The cool did feel good.

“Thanks.” Bucky felt he wasn’t expressing his gratitude very well, but talking was hard right now. Hopefully Falsworth would understand.

“I’ve some things to take care of, so I’ll leave you to rest,” the lieutenant said. “In case you’re still here when I return, I’ll announce myself before I come in again.”

Bucky just nodded.

“Before that, is there...anything else I might do?”

Bucky looked up at him. The Englishman was standing there like a shy puppy, giving him the “please ask me” eyes. Bucky was used to getting that look from girls. He couldn’t handle it from a guy right now.

Then he thought of something. “Well, there is one thing.” Bucky hesitated to ask, though.

“Anything.” Wow, was he eager. Bucky would have to tread carefully.

“You know those letters the captain mentioned earlier today?” Referring to Steve by his rank was much easier than saying his name out loud, which would have hurt right now.

“Ah, the ones from your sisters, if I recall.” Falsworth leaned forward slightly, eager to be helpful.

“Yep, that’s them.” Bucky bit his lip, knowing the effect this could have on people who found him attractive. “You think you could maybe...get ‘em for me?”

Falsworth’s millisecond of hesitation was almost undetectable. “Of course.”

“That would be...amazing.” Bucky smiled. It was mean. He was manipulating Falsworth the way he’d manipulated countless others--all girls, though, with the exception of Steve. But Bucky really needed those letters right now. And there was no way he could deal with seeing Steve anytime soon.

To his credit, Falsworth only blushed a little before he nodded and left. Bucky took his boots off, pulling his feet up onto the cot and hugging his knees.

“Did someone make you sad, Brother?” Bucky could hear Patti’s voice in his head, and it made him homesick. She would look up at him with big adoring eyes the same way she used to do when she was 5. At 11--holy shit, she would be 12 now!--her face had lost most of its baby fat, but she would always be his baby sister.

“Aw, nah,” Bucky told her, watching as she sat down and leaned against him just like she used to do when she was little. “Something just happened I didn’t think of before,” he said. “It surprised me, that’s all.”

“Yeah?” She looked up at him. He imagined the way her hair would always form a cowlick right at the crown of her skull. After that time she’d stolen Mom’s shears to give herself a haircut, Patti’s hair had never been longer than a pixie cut. “Where’s Stevie?”

Patti would ask that. “Uh...dunno, kiddo. Probably somewhere with his new girlfriend.” It hurt to say it, even if it was just in his own head.

Patti’s jaw dropped. “Stevie has a girlfriend?!” She bounced excitedly on the couch springs next to him. “Is she pretty?”

“Yeah.” Bucky had to admit. “I’d give her a solid 9 out of 10.”

“Whoa, nine?” Patti repeated. Then she sucked on her lower lip, pondering this, her grey eyes thoughtful. “What number is Vivien Leigh? A 10?”

“Nah, Viv’s probably like an 11 at least.”

Patti nodded, solidifying the scale of attractiveness in her mind. “What’s Stevie?” she asked, catching Bucky off-guard.

“How am I supposed to know?” Bucky laughed uncomfortably, evading the question. “I don’t look at guys like they’re Vivien Leigh.”

“Not even Stevie?” Patti asked, and it was a perfectly innocent question. Not to mention after the number of times she’d been sent home with angry notes from the nuns about telling girls in the schoolyard she was their boyfriend, it was probably just part of this whole phase Patti was going through.

“There’s no scale that could hold Steve,” Bucky said, finally. When he looked up, she was gone.

What he wouldn’t do for a smoke right now. That’s what he really should have asked Falsworth for. Bucky lay down on the cot, curling on his side. He felt like he might never move again.

“Well aren’t you a sorry sight?” a welcome voice spoke behind his eyes.

“So says the ugly girl,” Bucky shot back. In his mind, Kate bent over him like she’d done 100 times before, kissing him goodbye on the way to her job at the bakery at 3am.

“You should tell him how you feel.” Kate never was one for beating about the bush. She would brush his hair back from his cheek and take the damp cloth to wipe away some spot of dirt he didn’t even know was there.

“He knows how I feel,” Bucky said. How could he possibly not?

_“Love you more.”_

Kate would give him her patented look that showed she didn’t believe a word. Sometimes looking at his eldest sister was like looking in a mirror where the reflection disapproved of you. “So he knows you’re lying here thinking your life might be over because Steve finally got a girl to notice him?” Kate had no sympathy when it came to her brother; she was utterly ruthless.

“My life ain’t over.” Maybe if he said it enough times, Bucky would start to believe it.

“If you let him walk away without telling him how you feel, you really are as dumb as Becky says you are,” Kate said. “Maybe dumber.”

“Leave it, Kate,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest. And then she was gone, too.

It wasn’t that he missed them, Bucky’s eyes were just watery still from all the crying he’d done earlier. He put the damp cloth over his eyes, lay back, and just breathed for a few minutes. Maybe sleep would come. Maybe this was all just a bad dream, and he’d wake up in 1941 with little Steve asleep on the pillow next to him.


	10. Too Dear for My Possessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falsworth recalls his time at Hydra with Bucky and recruits some friends to assist with the retrieval of Bucky's letters from Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Falsworth's, because he's earned it.  
> Dialog in italics means they're speaking French.
> 
> This chapter is rated Teen and features:  
> Falsworth (POV)  
> Bucky  
> Jones  
> Dernier  
> Morita  
> Steve

James Montgomery Falsworth had a beautiful young man in his bed. Unfortunately, that beautiful young man was not for him; he would have to content himself with sleeping on the pillow on which Barnes had once rested his head. Perhaps--if he was very lucky, and Barnes found nowhere else to spend the night--Falsworth might sleep on the floor beside him tonight.

As a peer of the realm, it was an odd concept that his heart should be racing like this at the possibility of sleeping on the unadorned ground. But then, would not Alexander have done the same for Hephaestion? Love was indeed the great equalizer.

James Montgomery Falsworth had loved Bucky Barnes from the moment he’d clapped eyes on him. The American’s noble act of bravery, volunteering himself as a test subject for Hydra on his first day as a prisoner of war in hopes of sparing his fellow captives, had earned Falsworth’s admiration. His handsome face had inspired Falsworth’s fervor.

In the weeks they’d both been prisoners, Falsworth had been gifted with ample opportunities to bask in his presence. By the whim of Fortune, Barnes had been placed in cage 9, which meant he was on the same work crew with Falsworth, and that they slept in the same five foot radius at night. It had provided any number of openings for conversation, and Falsworth had taken advantage of as many as he'd dared.

Falsworth had found Barnes to be a thoughtful, well-spoken young man--especially for an American--and they’d come to rely on and trust one another in that way men faced with adversity will do. The whole cage 9 team had, for that matter, but Dernier and Jones seemed to spend the bulk of their time carrying on exclusive conversations in French, and Dugan was hardly a brilliant conversational companion. And so Barnes and Falsworth had become closer than they would have ever done under normal circumstances (which was not at all, considering the class difference alone).

Unfortunately for Barnes, Falsworth wasn’t the only one to have taken notice of him. After Hydra began taking Barnes away, it was Falsworth in whom Barnes confided what details he could bear to mention of the ordeals. Barnes wanted to ensure the strategic information that had been divulged in his presence during these horrific absences could get back to the Allies in case he did not.  

If Falsworth hadn’t already loved him by then, he would have, seeing the brave face Barnes put on even after what he endured, how hard he worked to keep up the men’s spirits when his own was being crushed sometimes nightly. It had been torture to watch his light fade, to see him slowly giving up hope, and to be unable to stop him when Barnes began actively seeking beatings from the guards in hopes of never having to go to “dinner” with Schmidt again.

The pinnacle of their acquaintance thus far had also been its lowest point: when Barnes had been returned to them half-dead, Falsworth had stripped from the waist up and held the American’s frozen body against his with all of cage 9 huddled around them in an attempt to maintain Barnes’ body temperature so that he would live through the night. It had been the most tragic of embraces, and therefore Falsworth could hardly cherish the memory of it. Still, his arms remembered the feel of holding Barnes, and he would sometimes dream of reliving that feeling in kinder circumstances.

When the guards had come to take Barnes away for the last time, all of cage 9 had fought them, but none harder than Falsworth. He’d employed the emergency weapon he’d been saving for an escape attempt, seeing at the time no situation more dire, a belt buckle he’d managed to sharpen to a razor’s edge. While Dugan took on guards hand to hand, quickly becoming overwhelmed by their number in spite of his brute strength, Falsworth had dispatched one after another with surgical precision until they had finally realized he was armed and repaid him in kind. Falsworth’s heart had broken as he’d been forced to watch through a film of blood the guards dragging away Barnes for what he’d then assumed to be the last time.  

His joy at seeing Barnes alive again after their escape had been tempered by the curious intimacy the sergeant shared with their mysterious rescuer, who was no officer Falsworth had ever heard of. Rumour could hardly spread more quickly than it did through ranks of soldiers, and so he’d heard that the two of them were childhood friends. To Falsworth’s mind, there seemed to be a bit more to the story, however. He’d still been puzzling over it two nights ago when the two of them had blundered into his watch zone and passionately kissed.

His hope had first been that it was non-consensual. From the way their embrace had ended, that could have been the case. But Barnes had dashed those hopes when Falsworth had given him the opportunity to ask for succor the next night. In retrospect, he really should have known from the way Barnes and Rogers had been flirting in the barracks kitchen just prior to his conversation with Barnes on the roof.

To add insult to injury, he’d nearly intruded--by accident, of course--on their blanket-sharing late last night. A lesser man might have interrupted them out of spite, but J.M. Falsworth was a nobleman first and a man second. A man who believed firmly that discretion was the better part of valour, no matter what it cost him personally.

That same belief had kept him from interrupting their lark through the wood this afternoon, though Falsworth had caught up to the two of them far sooner than he’d actually made his presence known. It was uncouth to bring to mind the intimate circumstances he’d stumbled upon then, but certain images would be burned into his mind for years to come.

Falsworth adjusted his jacket, moving toward the mess tent where he felt he had the best chance of encountering the cage 9 team and hatching a plan for fulfilling the promise he’d just made to Barnes. He understood why Barnes had no wish to ask Captain Rogers for his letters himself. For his own part, Falsworth was in complete support of keeping the two men apart for as long as possible. Anything he could do to that end--especially without appearing petty or jealous--he would do.

Jones was the easiest to spot from a distance, his dark skin standing out among the crowd of nearly all white American soldiers. Naturally, Dernier was by his side. Falsworth slid onto the bench opposite them. “ _Bonsoir_ ,” he greeted them. _“I trust you found something edible?”_

Dernier looked at him with his usual companionable contempt. _“You speak French like an Englishman,”_ he said. _“Stop butchering my language.”_

“It’s the usual swill,” Jones shifted the conversation to English. “But damn good swill after the gruel they were giving us at Hydra.”

Falsworth glanced dubiously at the metal tray and its gravy-obscured contents. “Yes, I’d imagine so.”

 _“Wait too long, you English fool, and it will all be gone!”_ Dernier warned.

“What a shame that would be,” Falsworth said drily. “Although I should like to take something back for Barnes in case he regains his appetite.”

“Where is pretty boy, anyway?” Jones asked.

“He’s having a rest,” Falsworth said. “Coming all this way to find he’d been declared dead already was a bit of a shock, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, join the club,” Jones said, stabbing with his fork at what might have been mash. “I better get a letter to granny before she sells all my records for bingo money.”

“Hey, assholes,” Morita greeted them, sliding in next to Falsworth. “What’s cookin’?”

“This food. No!” Dernier spoke English for Morita’s benefit.

“You can say that again,” Morita replied, glancing at his plate in dismay. “You’d think they could at least get hold of a bag of rice these days.” He raised a forkful of mash and let it fall back onto the metal tray with a look of disgust.

“Better than shit on a shingle!” Jones said, shoveling it in cheerfully.

Falsworth had been examining the apple on Morita’s tray. It was a bit worm-eaten, but a rare treat on the front for all that. “Do you mind if I take this?” he asked, plucking it from the tray.

“Uh. I guess so,” Morita said, though he clearly did mind. “Is that all you’re gonna eat, Monty?”

“It’s not for me, Hiro,” Falsworth explained. “It’s for our Sergeant Barnes.”   

“Ah, the third in our unholy trinity of Jims.” Morita considered the food on his fork but made no move to eat it. “Where is Buchanan anyway? I saw him pushing through the crowd earlier like he needed the shitter something bad.”

Falsworth glanced around first to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. “For the nonce, he’s gone to ground in my tent, but let’s keep that between us, shall we?” He held each of the men’s gaze for a moment to assure their silence.

“Wait, why?” Morita wanted to know. “What’s going on?”

“He probably wanted some time to himself for once,” Jones said. “Can you blame him? He deserves it more than any of us.”

“Hear, hear,” Falsworth agreed. “And in that same vein, he’s asked me to do something for him, and I may require your assistance.”

“Anything for my fellow Jims,” Morita said.

“I’m in,” Jones volunteered.

Dernier’s reply was a bit more graphic and imaginative, because he never would let Falsworth forget he’d caught the Englishman watching Barnes sleep one night in the cage.  

“That’s hardly applicable,” Falsworth told the Frenchman smoothly. And then he described his plan.

 

* * *

 

Captain Rogers was returning from his dinner with the colonel and Agent Carter, humming to himself like a man in love, and therefore sufficiently distracted even before Falsworth got his attention.

“Good evening, Captain.” The lieutenant had strategically positioned himself across from the opening to Rogers’ tent so that the American would have to turn his back on it while they were speaking. “Thinking of calling it a night? The celebration’s hardly begun.”

“Celebration?” The tall man came to stand just where Falsworth had meant him to, and he allowed himself a small smile of self-satisfaction.

“Of course,” Falsworth said. “Men all over camp are raising a glass to your success. After all, none of us would be here if it hadn’t been for your heroic rescue.” The captain looked strangely dismayed by this. Perhaps he was simply tired.

“Surely you’ll want to put in an appearance at your own victory celebration?”

He watched the big man sigh and force a resigned smile. “Guess I can’t really say no.”

“The burden of command,” Falsworth said, feeling far more ironic than he sounded.

“You headed that way?” the captain asked.

“As a matter of fact,” Falsworth nodded. “Care to join me?” Plan A was almost complete. He was so close…

Then Rogers seemed to think better of it, pausing. “I just gotta do one thing first.”

 _Damn._   

“You go ahead without me, Lieutenant. I’ll catch up.” He was turning back toward the tent as he spoke.

“Well, if you insist…” In order for this to work, he had to pretend to leave.

Fortunately there was a plan B. Falsworth triggered it on his way out, discreetly tossing a firecracker into the nearby campfire as he passed. It burst with a loud pop, and he moved out of sight to oversee the next step.

Jones and Dernier were now between Rogers and his tent on the opposite side.

 _“I told you; I don’t like your face!”_ Gabe shouted in French before giving Dernier a little shove.

 _“You sit on it far too often for that to be true!”_ Jacques shouted back, causing Falsworth to shake his head in gratitude that most Americans were monolingual. The captain had stopped and was watching them, unable to reach his tent. He seemed to be considering how to intervene.

 _“This is clearly a lie you just made up for this fight, and not actually a true fact about our relationship at all!”_ Jones protested, knocking Dernier’s cap off.

 _“I forgot the bloody Englishman can understand us!”_ Dernier said, throwing a wild punch at Jones. _“Sorry!”_

“Hey, guys, guys,” Captain Rogers approached, palms outstretched to make a plea for peace. “What’s goin’ on? We’re all friends here.”

Jones side-stepped the captain and got Dernier in a headlock. “I may have slept with his wife,” he said. From the look on his face, Rogers had no idea how to deal with this information. Excellent.

 _“Don’t you ever fuck my wife!”_ Dernier spat. _“She would leave me for you in a the wink of an eye!”_ He elbowed Jones in the ribs to get free of the headlock. Jones had the inappropriate reaction of laughing as he doubled over.

“Wait,” the captain asked. “Are you guys being serious?” He glanced back and forth between Dernier and Jones.

_Drat them._

While Jones was laughing, Dernier took his chance and tackled him to the ground.

“Hey, stop!” Rogers called out. He actually picked up the Frenchman, bodily removing him from Jones. “Come on, guys, don’t make me get the MPs.”

 _“Blood of Christ, he’s strong!”_ Dernier screamed, his feet dangling two feet off the ground.

A whip-poor-will called in the near distance. Falsworth could only assume it was the all-clear signal as European nightjars made a very different sound than their American cousins. Hopefully Rogers was not a bird enthusiast. Shaking his head at the ham-fistedness of their operation, Falsworth left the two men to extricate themselves. He had full confidence in their ability to do so.

Falsworth found Morita waiting outside the mess tent, which had turned into a biergarten. “Sorry it took me so long,” he said. “There were about a hundred sketchbooks I had to dig through to get to the letters.”

“But you were successful?” Falsworth asked.

“Never doubt me,” Morita replied, handing Falsworth a ribbon-wrapped bundle with several loose envelopes on top. “I’m descended from an ancient clan of ninjas, you know.”

“Are you really?” Intrigued as Falsworth was by the bundle of letters, he tucked them into his jacket pocket with no more than a glance.

Morita snorted. “How the hell should I know? A real _shinobi_ never talks about his covert missions. That’s kind of the point.”

“Ah.” What an odd sense of humour he had. “Then you have my thanks.”

Morita smiled. “Don’t think I won’t ask you to return the favor someday, Monty.”

“It would be my pleasure, Hiro.” Still, Falsworth thought, it would be a shame to lose such a talented, amusing man back to the 100th. Falsworth made a note to speak with Agent Carter about recruiting him to the Strategic Scientific Reserve.

“Hey, you wanna get blind-drunk?” Morita asked.

“A tempting offer,” Falsworth said, patting the letters in his pocket. “I’ll just deliver these first.” Morita nodded, heading for the beer line.

As Falsworth made his way back to his tent, he glanced around for any sign of Rogers. There was an art to concealing things (or people) within easy reach of those looking for them. Not that he knew the captain would be looking for Barnes anytime soon. Just the same, he daren’t risk giving up the game just yet.

The coast was clear when he came to stand outside the tent flap, his heart beginning to beat much faster than it had during the entire execution of their recent espionage. Falsworth cleared his throat. “I’m back. Coming in, if that’s all right.”

There was no answer from inside, and his heart fell a little. Falsworth had to remind himself there had been no guarantee Barnes would stay.

He stepped into the tent and allowed his eyes time to adjust to the lack of light. Even as he waited, Falsworth could hear the slow and steady sound of breathing from the vicinity of his cot. He permitted himself a smile, moving closer as the details of the area slowly came into focus.

Now he faced the eternal question: should he wake him? No. Barnes needed his rest. Falsworth left the letters on the table where Barnes would see them when he woke, placing the apple on top for a paperweight.

He glanced regretfully at the prone form on the cot. Much as Falsworth might like to watch the young man sleep, he had appearances to keep up, and men to thank for a job well done. And he wasn’t fooling himself. As hard as Barnes had wept this afternoon to see his lover with a woman, Falsworth knew he would continue to let Rogers use him for as long as Rogers liked. It was a tragedy he’d watched play out several times with school chums. He knew better than to think Barnes could or would throw over his selfish lover for a new man. At least, not any time soon.

There was nothing like patience for a hopeless situation. Falsworth had been bred to keep calm and carry on. And so he would.

James Montgomery Falsworth had a beautiful young man in his bed, and for now, that was enough. “Good night, good night,” he murmured, backing quietly out of the tent. It was a sweet sorrow, and one he would cherish, for it was all he was like to get from their friendship, such as it was.  


	11. Perfidious One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tours the camp-wide celebration looking for Bucky. The Howling Commandos are drunk. Meanwhile, Bucky starts to read his stolen stack of letters. Steve finally resorts to music to lure Bucky out of hiding. They start "the talk" they should have had chapters ago, but rage and a near-death experience interrupts. Horny!Steve puts in an appearance, claiming his perfidious title long before Peggy catches him snogging Margaery Tyrell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long. I just...needed them to get back together by the end. It took a while. 
> 
> The version of "Perfidia" Bucky knows is the upbeat Benny Goodman one, not the slow torch song it's meant to be. Even my Bucky isn't THAT gay. Youtube it if you dare. It's a good one.
> 
> This chapter is rated Mature and features:  
> Steve (POV)  
> Bucky (POV)  
> Dugan  
> Bucky's sister Becky (mentioned)  
> Jones and Dernier  
> Bucky's sister Kate (mentioned)  
> Connie (mentioned)  
> 2/3 of the Jim Gang (Falsworth and Morita)  
> Peggy (mentioned lots)

****Steve was utterly perplexed by the weird fight he’d had to break up between Dernier and Jones. Once he’d separated them and put the Frenchman down, their disagreement seemed to go up in smoke. Neither of them wanted to expound on just what had happened, and that was fine by Steve, because if it was real and there was some bizarre love triangle going on between the two men and Mrs. Dernier, Steve wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.

His suspicion, however, was that there was no disagreement at all. For one thing, the words he’d been able to make out of their argument didn’t fit with their story. Either they’d just wanted an excuse to fight--neither of them had been drinking from the smell of them, though--or they’d staged the whole thing, but why?

Steve watched the two men hobble away not much worse for wear, Dernier holding onto Jones, complaining a mile a minute in French about the scare Steve had given him by picking him up off the ground. Steve didn’t see what the big deal was; the guy was maybe 100 pounds.

Now what was it he’d been about to do? Steve glanced around. Falsworth seemed to have gone ahead without him. Steve sighed. If it were up to him, he’d have climbed into bed and done some sketching before catching some sleep. He wanted to review the evening he’d spent with Peggy (Colonel Phillips had been there, too, but Steve was ignoring that part) in his mind, relive some of the choice moments, think about how the lamplight had reflected in her eyes…

But he couldn’t do that. That would have been selfish on a normal day, much less the day he’d returned the POWs to the Allies. All around him, soldiers were drinking and celebrating and singing and hooting and hollering, having the best possible time you could have on the front lines.

 _Camaraderie._ That was the elusive word Steve had been looking for to describe the scene. But these weren’t his comrades. He couldn’t forget that a few days ago, some of these men were the same ones who had been heckling him on stage and throwing produce. Even the ones he’d helped escape, Steve felt like he had little in common with. He didn’t feel like he really knew any of them, and he knew they didn’t know him. In many ways, he felt utterly apart from these men. The worst feeling of loneliness was one you got in a crowd.

“Hey, Captain America!” a man Steve recognized as being from the 107th called out to him. “Come drink with us!”

As Steve had told Falsworth, he couldn’t really say no, all things considered. He wondered where Bucky was. If he made the rounds of celebrants, Steve figured he was bound to run into his best friend eventually, right? That was one thing he could look forward to at least.

*

_Dear Bucky,_

He’d found the stack of letters where Falsworth had left them. The few on top, all addressed in Kate’s hand, were the ones Bucky had actually asked for.

But then there was the ribbon-tied bundle underneath. His name was written on each envelope in Steve’s half-printed in capital letters, half-cursive handwriting. But none of them had been addressed. It was as though Steve had never meant to send them.

Bucky missed his sisters so much, he’d begun to hallucinate them, but unsent letters from Steve took precedence over mail from his family. As Bucky opened the first envelope, he took a moment to wonder briefly how Falsworth had gotten hold of these. There was no way he’d asked Steve for Bucky’s letters and Steve had handed these over along with the letters from his family. Steve likely had no idea Bucky had these, which is why he had to read them. Right now.

_I never wrote you before this because a lot happened right after you shipped out. I didn’t really have time and well, there’s a lot of things I can’t tell you about._

_But I want you to know, I thought of you every day..._

*

Oddly, Steve felt no worse after a couple glasses of beer. As far as he was concerned, though, two glasses and a couple rounds of “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition” fulfilled his obligation to the first group, so he moved on through the camp.

Everywhere he went there were congratulations and toasts and hearty pats on the back, but no Bucky. Was he doing it again? Avoiding Steve on purpose? It was discouraging. Steve really thought they’d had a breakthrough this afternoon. Or was that why? Did Bucky think they needed to play it cool after almost getting caught in the act by Falsworth?

Really the only one who could give him answers was Bucky. So Steve started asking every group that stopped him or called him over to celebrate. “Hey, have you seen Sergeant Barnes?”

*

_My life is pretty weird right now._

_Remember when I tried to enlist again at the Expo? Well, they ended up recruiting me for a different job: selling war bonds. You won’t believe this, but I’m going into showbiz. Me. How nuts is that?_

_To be honest, it’s not just nuts, it’s terrifying. I have to learn lines and get fitted for a costume. I might even have to dance._

_Man, I wish you were here. You’d probably just laugh at me, and I wouldn’t feel so nervous anymore._

Bucky smoothed his hand across the creased paper as he would have done to this scared Steve’s cheek. Steve, who’d never even been able to stand in front of the class and give a book report. And they’d asked him to act and dance in front of a crowd?

“Poor Steve.”

*

After five more glasses of beer, Steve didn’t feel drunk or euphoric; he just kind of felt annoyed. Where the hell was Bucky? No one seemed to know.

Was Bucky not celebrating? Did he feel like Steve didn’t deserve this? Because Steve could have honestly passed on all of this, himself. Of course it was great, and the men deserved to celebrate; it was a big deal. But celebrate him? No, that was over the top. Anyway, the whole reason he’d gone--the actual person for whom he’d jumped out of a perfectly good airplane--wasn’t here. And that was just wrong.

Steve was focusing so hard on his angst that he nearly ran into Dum Dum. “Oh hey, Dugan,” Steve avoided running into him at the last minute. “You seen Bucky?”

The longshoreman turned around somewhat unsteadily and looked at Steve with bleary eyes. “Cap’n Shteve,” he slurred. “Whatchoo lookin’ for? A bunny?”

Oh jeez was he sloshed. “Not a bunny,” Steve explained, trying to stay calm. “Bucky. Sergeant Barnes.”

“Yeah, where is that guy?” Dum Dum echoed. “I ain’t seen ‘im since before.”

“Before?” Steve watched Dugan waiver on his feet and thought getting him to a chair would be a good idea. “Before what?”

“‘fore we got here,” Dugan explained beerily. “I love that little guy.” He began to wax poetic. “I ever tell you I love that little guy? He’sh sho great.” Steve carefully steered him toward an empty bench, holding onto him so that Dugan wouldn’t fall if he stumbled.

“He is pretty great,” Steve agreed. But where was he?

“Cap’n Shteve, you shee that little guy, you tell ‘im I love ‘im, okay?”

“Sure thing, big guy.” Steve got him settled into a sitting position and gave Dugan a pat on the back.

“Thanksh.” Dugan smiled. “You’re the besht, Cap’n Shteve.” He laid his head on the table and began to snore.

*

_You’d better be okay, pal. Your mom’s been lighting candles at church every week. Me, I’m not so much the praying type. But I’ll kick your ass if you get hurt, so don’t do it, jerk._

Bucky smiled sadly. That was classic Steve, threatening bodily harm if he didn’t take care of himself.

_Stay safe._

_Because I’m with you till the end of the line, pal._

 

_Steve_

Bucky’s fingers clenched on the letter, creasing it further. Why the hell hadn’t Steve sent these? Had he met this dame and forgotten about everything else?

Showbiz. Bucky could definitely see Steve in his new body being a star. He’d probably had every single one of those chorus girls going ga-ga over him. Had she been one of them? No, Steve had said the chorus girls were like his sisters. So what, then?

Bucky was about to fold the letter up and put it back into its envelope again when he saw the post-script.

_P.S. Helped Becky with her geometry homework today. She says she thinks I’ve gone up 20 IQ points since you left. Thanks for taking all the stupid with you._

“Why I oughtta--” But Bucky was smiling. There was another piece of paper tucked into the envelope. He unfolded it to find one of Steve’s sketches. This one showed Becky bent over the kitchen table, drawing shapes with a compass. Her braid was half-loose and her lips were pursed in concentration. He’d captured her perfectly.

Would Steve’s sensitive artist’s hands ever be used for his drawing again, or would they be used to fight wars from now on? If he really was the result of an army experiment, Bucky thought he knew the answer, and he didn’t like it.

*

In the French part of camp, Dernier and Jones seemed to be getting along famously again. The French soldiers were gathered around their own bonfire, dancing and carrying on. The few remaining buffalo soldiers were interspersed with them, as the French did not mind sharing their company, unlike the rest of the Allied soldiers. Steve had read the Free French army was the only army that didn’t segregate by skin color, which was pretty swell of them.

Steve was a true New Yorker. It was the melting pot mentality that had sheltered his parents when they came over from the old country, and Steve was a firm believer in it. 40 years ago, Steve and Bucky might have been segregated or denied opportunities because they were Irish. There was no excuse for discriminating against people because of where their family was from or what they looked like. If he ever got his own unit, Steve wasn’t going to choose its members based on the color of their skin. That was just plain stupid.  

As he watched, Dernier began a jaunty dance that seemed to involve swinging another man by the elbow in circles while the accordion played. It wasn’t Jones, surprisingly. He was seated with some other American soldiers, talking and smiling.

His earlier encounter with the two men had been way too weird. Steve decided to pass on asking the two of them if they knew where Bucky was, and moved on.

*

_Dear Bucky,_

_Today I met some of the dancing girls for my show. Wow are they beautiful. You’d be so jealous of me right now, I bet. They’re wasted on me, though. You know I don’t know the first thing of what to do with pretty girls._

_Lucky for me, Katie came along._

God bless Kate. Steve tried his best to reject her help as much as he did Bucky’s, but his sister was like his twin when it came to stubbornness. Without Bucky there to talk sense into Steve, he was sure Kate had been giving Steve hell. “Lucky for me” had probably been a lot more like “even though I told her not to come, and tried to catch the train without her.” Bucky smiled.

_She knew I was nervous in case they made me dance, so she met me right after work. Not sure if she said anything to those dames, but I think they think she’s my girl now._

Bucky could absolutely picture it: those girls ogling Steve’s new brick shithouse body and Kate just standing there in the background, staring them all down. She knew Steve couldn’t handle dames like that.

_Anyway, I’m so relieved, I won’t have to dance. They’re just going to have me punch out Adolf Hitler._

Bucky read that sentence again, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. “Punch out Adolf Hitler?”

_I got to see my costume, too. It’s kind of... Well, you’d laugh, put it that way. Aw, heck. Maybe you need a laugh right now._

Rough-sketched below this sentence was the same costume Steve had worn behind enemy lines, complete with winged hood and star-spangled shield accessory.

“Jesus, Steve. Didn’t they give you any input on that thing?” Steve had a pretty sharp design sense, he’d just never bothered to use it when it came to his own appearance.

_I tried to give them some suggestions, but they didn’t want my input. Said it was a showbiz thing._

Bucky would have found it odd that he seemed to have just had a conversation with Steve across time, but they’d been doing stuff more eerie than that since they were kids. As far as Bucky was concerned, it didn’t even count as coincidence anymore.

_Katie had a great idea, though, because I’ve been worried about my lines. She said I can tape them on the back of my shield in case I get stage fright! How smart is that?_

_I figure you must’ve been switched at birth on account of how smart all your sisters are._

Bucky might have pointed out that Steve hadn’t thought of this on his own, either. But Steve wasn’t here.

Bucky realized he’d started to wish he was. His emotions were still out of control when he thought of Steve with that dame, but Steve was still his best pal. In that way, at least, he’d always belong to Bucky.

Bucky set the letter aside for a moment, thinking. What in hell was he going to say to Steve the next time he saw him? He couldn’t avoid him forever. Moreover, he didn’t want to. Maybe Bucky could just keep his mouth shut. Only speak when Steve asked him a question. That way he wouldn’t accidentally say something he’d regret, or reveal something he couldn’t take back.  

He glanced down at the letter, considering putting it away and going outside, maybe to find Steve, maybe just to get some air. But a name further down in the text caught his eye.

_Connie came by last night. She wanted your address so she could write to you. You didn’t give her your army address? Jeez, Buck. You went out with this one more than twice. I thought that meant she might be a keeper._

_Anyway, Katie gave it to her. So fuck you if that’s not okay, jerk._

_She hung around afterwards and was acting kind of funny._

_Here we go_ , Bucky thought. _This is the part where Brick Shithouse Steve starts stealing my girlfriends._

_She said maybe she and I should see a movie sometime since we’re both on our own with you gone._

_Smooth, Connie,_ Bucky thought.

_I only said ‘maybe’ because I didn’t know how to say no without hurting her feelings. I’m not going to see a movie with my best friend’s girl while he’s away in the army!_

“Good boy, Stevie.” Though, to be honest, Bucky could care less about Connie. She was pretty, but fell into the “date because we look good together” category of girl in Bucky’s mind.

_I told her if she wanted to sit for a sketch I could send to you, though, that would be okay._

“Oh, Steve.” Steve had no idea how that could be misconstrued. Only Steve.

Sure enough, Bucky looked inside the envelope and there was another sketch there, this one of Connie. Bucky wished he could have been a fly on the wall when she’d pulled her blouse down over one shoulder. Had Steve even noticed? He became intensely focused when he was drawing.

Honestly, if the sketch hadn’t been done by Steve, Bucky would have considered giving it to one of the guys. As it was, he was trying to think of how you tell a girl you’re never taking her out again because she tried to seduce your best friend. And you’re more jealous of her than him.

_She stayed real late for it. After the girls went to bed, she wanted me to walk her home, so I did. Don’t get mad, Buck. She tried to kiss me good night. So I ran all the way back home._

Bucky actually laughed out loud. He felt a little sorry for Connie, picturing it. But not that sorry.

_It was pretty scary. I told Katie today if she comes back, tell her I’m not here. She said she’d take care of it._

_Your sister is kind of like a mafia hit man sometimes, you know that?_

Bucky did, in fact, know that. She had inherited her quiet, dangerous temper from their father. Bucky had been known to say it was better to piss off the Five Pointers than to piss off Kate.  

_Maybe I shouldn’t have told._

_Too late now,_ Bucky thought.

_Anyway, the first show is next week. Pat said she wanted to come, so I got tickets for her and your mom. Katie has to work and Becky said she’d rather have her nails ripped out with pliers. That kid is so funny._

If Steve really thought Becky was joking when she said shit like that, Bucky was not about to correct him. Ignorance was bliss.

_I’ll let you know how it goes._

_You’d better be taking care of yourself, since I can’t be there to do it for you._

_I miss you, you big jerk._

 

_Steve_

No way had Steve met the mystery woman by then. If Bucky hadn’t already been sure Kate had been chasing all the dames away like a protective bulldog, Steve’s own ineptitude with women would have taken care of her if she’d come along back then.

He sighed, looking at the stack of letters. He needed to read them, but he’d been cooped up inside for hours now. Bucky stood up and paced around the tent, stretching his legs a little. He glanced at the clothing rack where Falsworth kept his uniforms. No, he couldn’t do that.

There was a steamer trunk at the foot of his cot. Bucky opened it and rifled through until he found a jacket. Hopefully Falsworth wouldn’t mind him borrowing one just for now. Bucky tugged it on, concealing the letters inside one of the pockets before he walked out. The night was chill, in spite of all the bonfires and men out celebrating. Bucky walked quickly as far away as he could get from all the noise.

*

Steve was about to give up hope of ever finding Bucky when he stumbled across Morita and Falsworth. They were sitting by one of the campfires, arm in arm, singing “Auld Lang Syne.” Well, they were singing something with the same tune, at least. From what Steve could tell, Falsworth was giving the actual Scottish a try, but Morita was just making up words, three sheets to the wind.

“We two have piddled in the bush  
From Morningside to Vine  
But saints between us bravely roared  
For old hang sign!”

Steve cut in before he could go on. “Hey, guys,” he raised his voice to be heard over the caterwauling. “Mind if I join you?”

“No!” Morita pointed at him rudely. “You can’t join! You’re not a Jim! This here’s Jims only.”

“But my name is James,” Falsworth protested somewhat drunkenly.

“Shhhhhhhhh!” Morita put a finger to his lips and managed to spit all over his companion. “‘sa same thing, Monty.”

“If you insist.” Falsworth was no longer sitting precisely upright on the bench. He’d formed a drunk angle with the horizontal was all Steve could think of.

“Hey, speakin’ of which,” Steve thought he’d better get his question in before they either banned him for being named Steve or passed out. Either was possible from what he could tell. “I’m lookin’ for another James. Barnes. You seen ‘im?”

“I’m a ninja,” Morita stage-whispered in reply. “Shhhhhh!”

“Huh?”

“Do your worst!” Falsworth cried dramatically. “You’ll never get the information from me!”

Steve looked at him, wondering if they were having the same conversation. “You know where Bucky is?”

“Torture me if you must!” Falsworth went on. “I shall never give in. Never!” And he suddenly started belting out the chorus to “Rule, Britannia.”

Steve just shook his head, convinced the two men had lost their minds. “All right, then,” Steve said, backing away slowly.

“Get outta here, non-Jim!” Morita called after him. “That’ll teach you!” Then he joined in Falsworth’s singing, making up his own lyrics again.

Steve moved away from the noise, trying to gather his thoughts. Was it worth it to keep going? Maybe he should just call it a night; he’d been ready to do it much earlier.   
No.  
Not being able to find Bucky wasn’t just annoying, it was worrisome. What if something had happened to him?

Steve paused to think for a moment. If he were Bucky, where would he be?  
Then he got an idea.  
Steve hiked into the woods. With his ears straining to catch any tiny sound, he began to whistle as he walked.

*

Bucky had climbed as high as he’d dared. He wasn’t strong enough to really go as far as he wanted, and generally heights were bad, so this would do. No one would look for him here. Sadly, it would be pretty hard to read his letters here either.

But at least he’d escaped the noise and the suffocating feeling of claustrophobia in camp. He was safe from any forest predators that might come by, and just so long as he didn’t fall asleep and tumble from his perch…

Bucky could hear something in the woods. Was it a bird? No, birds didn’t sing like that. He listened carefully, noting that the bird-like song was coming closer.

_No way. No fucking way._

It was just the tune, but Bucky could hardly help adding the lyrics. “With a sad lament, my dreams have faded like a broken melody…” He leaned forward, clutching the tree limb and crooning along softly.

And now he could recognize the whistle. Who else would walk through the woods whistling that tune? THAT one. The irony.

*

_Gotcha._

“Perfidia” was just about Bucky’s favorite song. Steve knew if he was here, that song would draw him out.

He’d barely been able to pick up the singing, but Steve’s ears were good enough to track noises that faint now. A minute later, he was looking up into the tree from whence the voice had come.

“Bucky?”

There was only a heartbeat’s hesitation. “Steve?”

Steve didn’t wait, he jumped up and started to climb the tree.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Bucky asked, watching him clamber up. 

“What are _you_ doing?” Steve shot back.

“Getting some air,” Bucky said, defensively.

Steve didn’t dare pull himself up on the same tree branch where Bucky was sitting. Their combined weight was a lot more than it used to be. So he paused on an adjacent limb below Bucky’s and stood up to stare at his friend suspiciously. “You hiked into the forest and climbed a tree to get some air?”

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”

 _You’re scared to death of heights, for one thing_ , Steve thought. But what he said was, “So you’re not avoiding me?” Bucky looked away. That’s how he knew he was right. 

At first, Steve had felt pretty self-righteous about the whole thing, like maybe he’d needed to brow-beat Bucky some for hiding out tonight. But as soon as he saw it was true, Steve started to crumble from the inside.

“Why, Buck? What’d I do? Are you mad at me?” He leaned his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to suppress a sudden wave of panic.

Steve’s voice wasn’t Captain America’s voice all of a sudden. It was little Stevie Rogers’. Bucky tried to stay strong. But he couldn’t stay cool and detached when he heard the anxiety in Steve’s voice. “Hey.” He put an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m here now. Cool it.”

“So you’re not mad?” Steve’s eyes were vulnerable, pleading.

Bucky knew he’d waited too long to reply. But what the fuck could he say? This was the exact conversation he’d sworn to himself they would never have.

“You **are** mad!” Steve gasped. “What’d I do, Buck? Was it today when we almost got caught? Because you started that--”

Bucky took his arm back. “Shut up, Steve.”

Steve shut his mouth quickly.

Bucky just looked at him for a moment. “I’m gonna ask you some questions, and you’re either gonna answer, or you’re gonna have your answer. Got it?” Steve nodded.

Bucky took a deep breath, sorting through all the questions he had, everything Steve had refused to talk about, all the things Bucky had missed during their separation.

“Who did this to you?” Bucky gestured in a way that took in Steve’s new body from top to bottom.

Steve blinked at him, nonplussed. “I already told you: the army.”

Bucky shifted on the branch and grabbed a handhold, preparing to climb down. “You know what? This was a bad idea. Just forget it.”

Steve reached out and gripped his arm to stop Bucky leaving. “No, wait!” At least he realized he’d fucked up. “I’ll tell. I’ll tell you! Just don’t leave again.”

Bucky stopped, but he didn’t look at Steve. He was still thinking of leaving.

“Please, Buck,” Steve begged. And that broke Bucky’s resolve. He settled back on the tree branch, guarded but not gone yet.

“So the night you left--”

“After we had a fight about you trying to enlist again and you did it anyway,” Bucky filled in. Steve’s face fell.

“Well, I met this doctor. A sweet old man. I don’t know how, but somehow he knew about all my 4Fs.”

“Damnit, Steve!”

“No, it was okay. He said my five tries impressed him or something. That maybe it was time to give the little guy a chance in the war.”

“He took you?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

Steve straightened his back, proudly. “Yeah. He gave me the 1A stamp, and I was at Camp Lehigh later that week.”

“The same week I left,” Bucky said, clenching his jaw.

“Yup,” Steve said, sounding proud of this accomplishment.

“After I told you to stay in New York and look after Mom and the girls for me. You just left. The same fucking week.”

“Well…” Steve scratched the back of his neck. He had no answer for that.

Bucky really wanted to chew him out. To go off on Steve for being so self-centered, so single-minded he never saw the big picture. But he knew that if he did, he’d never get to hear this story. He also knew--from the unsent letters he’d already read--that Steve had somehow gotten himself discharged, which Bucky felt he fully deserved right now.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve said, knowing it was a lame apology.

“Just tell the rest, Steve,” Bucky snapped.

“That doctor--Dr. Erskine--he believed in me, Buck. I know it sounds crazy...You know I never knew my dad, and your dad--”

“Was a shit-sack, yeah.” Bucky said it for him in case Steve wasn’t brave enough to.

“It was like--I never knew what it felt like, you know? To have a man old enough to be my dad believe in me.” Steve fell quiet for a moment. “They killed him--Hydra. They killed Dr. Erskine right after my procedure. There was a spy there--”

“Hold on, Steve,” Bucky stopped him. “You skipped a bunch. What happened with you at Camp Lehigh? You did boot camp?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “Holy shit, that was hard.”

“Told you,” Bucky said, torn between feeling smug and worrying how on earth Steve had survived.

“The other guys were all bigger than me. They picked on me somethin’ awful.” Bucky’s fists clenched protectively. “But I kept goin’, you know? ‘Cause I knew I could do it if I just didn’t stop. And Dr. Erskine believed in me. And then there was Peggy--Agent Carter.”

“Peggy?” Bucky resisted the urge to jump the 20 feet down to the ground. This was the part he’d been dreading.

“She was there from my first day, and I couldn’t give up while she was watching.”

“Sure,” Bucky agreed numbly. What the hell was a WAC doing on a men’s army base during boot camp? Looking for a husband?

“I can’t believe I didn’t tell you about Peggy,” Steve realized.

“Me, either,” Bucky deadpanned.

“She’s so amazing, Buck. She’s the most beautiful gi--woman I’ve ever seen. And she’s so…” Steve gestured, unable to find the words.

“Stacked?” Bucky volunteered.

“What? No!” Bucky could almost hear him blushing in the darkness. “No, I was gonna say: she’s not like any other girl I’ve ever met before. The first time I saw her, she punched out this guy who was mouthing off to her. I mean, to the ground. K.O.”

Bucky tried to reconcile this story with the woman he’d seen earlier today. He couldn’t quite make it happen, but Steve wasn’t one to exaggerate. “That’s…” Bucky wasn’t really sure what adjective to use. For one thing, he was a little worried about Steve dating a girl who could K.O. a guy. Steve could be an annoying little shit. Bucky didn’t want him getting punched any more than his usual--which was quite a bit.

“Aw, she’s so swell, Buck.” Steve waxed rhapsodic. “I never really thought I had a chance with her before. You know I tried tellin’ her she was beautiful once, and she kinda made fun of me.”

Bucky had a sneaking suspicion. “Was that when you were smaller?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It was on the way to my procedure, actually. I didn’t really know what might happen, so I figured what the hell? This might be my last chance anyway.”

How Steve could mention the possibility of his own death so casually was staggering to Bucky. He was speechless; he felt like someone had punched **him**.

“Then I did the procedure. Peggy was there the whole time.” Bucky’s opinion of this dame reached a new low. “She was worried about me.” Steve smiled at the memory, which Bucky found a little disturbing. “Her and Dr. Erskine both, when I started screaming.”

“Screaming?!” How the fuck was Steve saying all this like it was no big deal?

“Dr. Erskine started pounding on the chamber, but it was Peggy who told Stark to shut it down.”

“Stark?” Bucky asked. “As in Stark Industries?” Bucky was making a mental list of all the people whose asses he would be kicking.

“That’s the one,” Steve nodded.

Didn’t Stark sell weapons to the military? Was Steve just another weapon Stark had produced for Uncle Sam?

“He said he might have to dim half the lights in Brooklyn for my procedure,” Steve announced proudly.

 _What the_ **_fuck_** _?_ Bucky thought. At least this Peggy dame had shut it down to save Steve. Maybe she wasn’t the wicked witch after all.

“I think it actually blew the power grid in the end, because when I went chasing after the Hydra guy, none of the traffic lights were working.” He still sounded proud as anything. “I didn’t let ‘em unplug me,” Steve confided. “I knew I could do it, see.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, seething. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Huh?”

“Get the fuck away from me right now before I push you out of this tree.”

“Bucky.” Steve sounded hurt. “What--?”

“What kind of **boneheaded** , **suicidal** fucking **reckless** bullshit is that?!” Bucky punched Steve in the arms and shoulder to emphasize certain words. “I always knew you were a masochist, but this?” Bucky started to come unraveled. “Goddamnit, you could have **died**! You could have actually fucking died, Steve!” And from the look on his face, Steve had absolutely no idea what effect this would have had on other people, what it would have done to Bucky.

“But I didn’t, though,” Steve pointed out, infuriatingly calm for all Bucky’s yelling.

That was it. Bucky had warned him, but Steve was just sitting there, staring at him like Bucky was making a big deal out of nothing. So Bucky leaned over and shoved Steve as hard as he could. “Fuck you, St--!”

The trouble was, big and strong as Steve was now, he’d become an immovable object. Becky could have explained to her brother what Newton’s Third Law of Motion was, but even without knowing it, Bucky demonstrated it capably, toppling backwards out of the tree with the force he’d just exerted on Steve.

He had just enough time to think, _This is it. It was a fear of falling, not a fear of heights after all,_ before his downward progress came to a halt with a painful jerk.  

“Bucky!” Steve’s face looked as scared as Bucky felt. “I got you!”

Dangling by his left arm, Bucky thought his shoulder might have been dislocated. He reached up with his right hand to grip Steve’s arm.

“Now who’s being reckless?” Steve asked as he pulled Bucky up beside him.

But the bonfire of Bucky’s rage had gone out. Even when he was back on the branch, he was afraid to let go of Steve.

Seeing Bucky was speechless, Steve tugged him close, holding his friend against him with one arm wrapped around Bucky. He started to rain kisses on Bucky’s face the way he did when Steve was feeling protective.

Bucky leaned away. “Steve, can we just--I don’t wanna be up here anymore.” That was an understatement.

“Okay, Buck.” Steve knew all about Bucky’s fear of heights. “You wanna climb down first, or--I could just carry you if--”

Bucky had had enough. He knew how strong Steve was after this afternoon’s run, so his reply was non-verbal. He flung his arms around Steve’s neck, hissing at the pain in his shoulder, but holding on for dear life.

“I got you, Buck,” Steve told him, wrapping one arm firmly around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky couldn’t say how Steve managed it, because he’d squinched his eyes tight shut, but somehow Steve got them down with the use of only one arm. After a couple of dizzying drops, Bucky’s feet were back on solid ground.

“Thanks,” he said shakily. It was time to let go of Steve now, he told his arms. But Steve was still holding on, too.

“Don’t scare me like that, Buck,” Steve said softly, killing Bucky with the look in his baby blues. Bucky felt like he was falling into Steve’s eyes, being drawn toward those soft lips as if by a magnet.

Steve was just starting to kiss him when Bucky remembered to push himself away. Damn, he was hard to resist. “That’s my line,” Bucky said, stubbornly turning his face away because Steve was still holding him and he wasn’t sure what he might do otherwise.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Steve apologized.

“That’s not the point, Steve.” Bucky’s voice sounded whiny to his own ears. “If you keep throwing yourself at dangerous shit without thinking, if you don’t even care that you might get hurt, someday you will. And I can’t handle that. I’m sorry; I just can’t.” His voice broke on the last word.

“I’ll be more careful, Buck,” Steve promised. Bucky knew it was an empty promise, and not just because Steve was nuzzling him when he said it.

“Steve, quit it,” Bucky warned. This wasn’t really what Steve wanted, and Bucky would be damned if he was gonna play stand-in for some dame.

Steve’s lips were pressed against Bucky’s neck before he seemed to process what his friend had just said. He pulled back to look at Bucky. “You don’t want…?”

“Steve.” Bucky brushed his blond hair back, smiling sadly. “You should go get some rest.” But Steve made no move to leave or even take his arm from around Bucky. “Steve.”

He rested his forehead against Bucky’s. “I don’t wanna,” Steve pouted.   

 _Damn it._ “Go on,” Bucky gave him a gentle shove.

“Can I have some cream for my coffee first?” Steve asked, sending heat rushing to Bucky’s cheeks.

“No,” Bucky said, breathless. “Go to bed, slutty boy. You already had my cock in your mouth once today.”

“It’s after midnight,” Steve pointed out in a very single-minded, Steve-like way.

“Then you’d better get some sleep,” Bucky told him, firm.

Steve’s arm around Bucky’s waist gave a little tug. “You come, too.”

“Steve.” Bucky tried so hard to concentrate, but the solid wood pushing against his hip was distracting. “If I sleep in your tent with you, can you promise to be good?”

“No,” Steve said simply, stroking the small of Bucky’s back sensually.

“So you’re honestly saying you want to fuck me, loud--”

“Yes!” Steve growled, biting Bucky’s neck enthusiastically.

Bucky had to work hard to maintain his train of thought. “--just two or three tents down from Colonel Phillips and your girlfriend?”

That seemed to give Steve pause. He pried his teeth from Bucky’s skin, hesitating.

“Good night, Steve,” Bucky said, moving back and away from Steve’s hold. 

“But where are you gonna sleep?” Steve wanted to know.

“I’ll find a place,” Bucky said, though he had no intentions of sleeping.

“But I’ll miss you,” Steve whined, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

 _I’ll miss you more,_ Bucky thought. But what he said was, “I’ll see you in a few hours, Steve. You’re a big boy now. I know you can handle it.”

Then he took off for camp at a jog, because if he knew Steve, Steve was going to pout again. Steve pouting was Bucky’s kryptonite, and he had some letters to read. But first, he needed a fucking medic. He just had to think up a decent lie for how he’d fucked up his shoulder.


	12. The American Revolution Happened for a Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve thinks hard and has a lot of feelings. He realizes some things. He's right about a few of them. He's really wrong about another. Peggy is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everyone who's been wanting to hit Steve with a rolled-up newspaper the last couple of chapters? Peggy's got your back. 
> 
> This chapter is rated Teen and features:
> 
> Steve (POV)  
> Bucky  
> Peggy  
> Falsworth (mentioned)

Steve watched Bucky literally run away from him. It was hard not to take it personally. And while his body pined for more contact, his heart ached at the rejection. First, Bucky had been avoiding him, literally hiding from Steve. And now this.

What was going on? Sure, they’d just had a fight about Steve taking the serum, and Bucky had accused him of being reckless and careless of his own safety. But Steve didn’t think Bucky was refusing to sleep with him--literally _or_ figuratively--because of that. At the end, he hadn’t even been mad anymore.

So what had happened? Bucky knew Steve really didn’t have to sleep, so it wasn’t out of some concern for his beauty rest. Sure, Steve not being able to keep his hands off Bucky was a good reason to spend the night in separate cots, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fooled around a little first. Or just cuddled. Steve would have much preferred the latter to this. They’d been far enough away from camp, but still Bucky had pushed him away. Bucky had been all over him this afternoon. Something didn’t add up.

Suspicious, Steve followed Bucky at a discreet distance. No way was Steve going to be able to sleep after this, and he needed to know what was going on.

As he followed Bucky, Steve thought hard, pondering all the different problems his friend had been struggling with since they’d escaped from Hydra.  

First, Bucky hated Steve’s new body. That was a blow to his ego, but Steve kind of understood it. His friend had been intimately familiar with his old body, and after being violated by a man with a very different body-type during their separation, getting told, “Hey, this is another new body, get used to it,” wasn’t really fair to Bucky.

Steve secretly feared how similar his new body was to Schmidt’s--Dr. Erskine had created both of them, after all. Did his new body ever remind Bucky of getting forced at Hydra? Steve could hardly stand to think it, but he had to accept it was a possibility.

So he’d resolved to take it slow. To do his best to appear shorter than Bucky whenever he could, to let his friend take the lead in their intimacy when he could--which, now that Steve thought about it, wasn’t often. His new body was way too horny. Steve wasn’t really sure how to solve that problem. Take cold showers? Maybe he’d give it a try now that showers were an option again.

So that was the problem with Steve’s new body.

The really big problem, the one Steve could do absolutely nothing about, was what Schmidt had done to Bucky while he was Hydra’s prisoner. It made Bucky not okay with certain kinds of contact, though what he was and wasn’t okay with seemed to change by the moment. Steve didn’t understand it, but he was resolved to be understanding _about_ it, to not touch Bucky without his permission (though he admittedly had a ways to go on that front), to let Bucky tell him what was and wasn’t okay when they were alone together.

It was going to be a tough road, but it was worth it to Steve. He would give Bucky all the time he needed to work through what had happened. Maybe Bucky would never be like how he was before. That was a messed up fact Steve just had to admit to himself. But he was here for Bucky, whatever that meant. They’d promised one another till the end of the line.

So those two things: Steve’s new body and Bucky’s libido having been broken by events that should never be named, they’d sort of talked about those already. But tonight, there had been something else. Bucky had all but admitted he’d been avoiding Steve on purpose. And this time, it wasn’t because of his new body or because he didn’t want to be touched. This time, he seemed to be pissed at Steve for not talking to him about what had been going on with Steve during their separation.

Steve had to admit, he’d been kind of an asshole about that. Sure, Project Rebirth was classified, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell Bucky all the other stuff that had happened while he’d been away.

Steve hadn’t really withheld that information on purpose. As far as he’d seen it, what had been going on with Bucky in that time was way more important. But what was it Bucky had kept telling him? He didn’t want to talk about it. So maybe what had happened to him was a big deal, but if talking about it hurt, it was up to Steve to tell him all the stupid little stories about his acting career and going on the road. Insignificant as they seemed, maybe it would help Bucky take his mind off the bad stuff. Maybe he should finally give Bucky those letters...

Suddenly it made total sense; Steve could see it now. He’d been selfish and hurtful because he’d needed to know if Bucky was all right and just in what way he wasn’t alright so badly.

He’d been a total jerk, Steve realized.

Add to that, Bucky was completely freaked out by Steve having volunteered himself for Dr. Erskine’s procedure. He seemed convinced it had been life-threatening, that something could have happened to Steve and he’d never have known it. Even if Steve disagreed, it wasn’t fair to discount Bucky’s feelings. His friend just worried about him the way Steve worried about Bucky. That was fair. They’d both taken care of each other for almost as long as he could remember.

Boy had Bucky been mad, though. Steve had never seen him so mad. To try to understand why, Steve imagined how he might feel if their roles had been reversed. Steve thought for a moment, sliding the puzzle pieces around in his head. Okay, he could sort of see it now. If Bucky had been the one getting the procedure, Steve would have wanted to be there to make sure everything was safe. He would have wanted to know the risks, and make sure it was okay. Steve had trusted Dr. Erskine implicitly. But he realized, if it had been Bucky at stake, he would have been less trusting. And really, to Steve, Bucky wouldn’t even have needed the procedure, because Bucky had been his hero since he was a kid. He didn’t need to be turned into a super-soldier to become what he already was.

Steve cared about Bucky’s safety and well-being much more than he did his own; it was that simple. If Bucky felt the same...that kind of explained it. Steve still felt he’d overreacted, but he could understand the basic jist of Bucky’s tantrum tonight.

And he didn’t want to worry his friend. Bucky had enough on his mind without Steve adding to his troubles. Friends were supposed to make life easier, not more stressful. 

Steve had expected Bucky to head toward the bunk tents, but he’d passed right by those. He continued to follow him, thinking maybe Bucky would try to claim one of the overflow cots that had been set up under the stars. While he waited to see where Bucky was going, Steve kept thinking.

Even after having analyzed all of these things about Bucky’s behavior, Steve still felt like there was a piece of the puzzle missing. Something had happened between this afternoon and tonight. Because somehow Bucky had gone from “Don’t leave me again” to “Go to bed alone, Steve.”

Sure, Bucky worried about them getting caught and Steve losing respect in the army. That was a fair thing to worry about. But they’d been away from camp, alone in the woods. There had been nothing stopping them fooling around a little before they returned to their respective cots. Bucky hadn’t seemed disgusted by him or to be struggling with intimate contact tonight. There had been something _else_ going on that had made him stand-offish. Steve wondered if Bucky would tell him what it was if he asked.

Speaking of Bucky, he’d walked right on by all of the empty cots, too. So where was--? Up ahead, Bucky went into the medic tent.

Steve froze. Was Bucky hurt? _Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!_ Steve was frantic. It was all he could do not to go barrelling into the tent behind Bucky and demand to know what had happened.

He ended up quietly rushing around the outside of the tent, trying to get a peek inside without revealing himself. Steve felt a little like he was one of the Marx brothers, only this wasn’t funny.

Why hadn’t Bucky told him he was hurt? His words from two nights ago came back to haunt him: “The day you stop tellin’ me what you really think is the day we stop being friends.” _Shit._ What was happening? Steve felt the panic start to set in again. He kept it at bay by focusing on the task at hand: find a way to see what was going on inside without letting Bucky see him.

As he did so, Steve wracked his brain for what could have happened. Had he somehow hurt Bucky without knowing it? The fall! When he’d caught Bucky, had he grabbed his arm too hard? _Oh my God._ Steve was beside himself. Why hadn’t Bucky said anything?

Late as it was, there were still people all over camp. Steve’s frantic attempt to spy on Bucky was drawing attention, so he withdrew to the shadows to wait, feeling sick to his stomach.

It wasn’t long before Bucky emerged from the medic tent with his arm in a sling. Steve had to use every last ounce of willpower not to sprint over to him and fuss over Bucky. Was this why he hadn’t wanted Steve to come back to camp with him? He didn’t want Steve to feel guilty for having busted his arm?

Steve felt horrible. He still didn’t know his own strength. That he could have actually hurt Bucky was like a knife straight to his heart. But if he approached his friend now, Bucky would know Steve had followed him after he’d told him to go to bed, that his noble sacrifice had been for nothing.

Hard as it was not to rush in and apologize to death, to fuss over Bucky like a mother hen right now, Steve wanted to respect Bucky’s wishes. If his friend knew he was following him even now, Bucky would be pissed. It wasn’t going to stop Steve from doing it, but it did mean he was going to have to be sly and keep his distance. And not cry.

Tomorrow, he’d said. _“In a few hours.”_ Then they could talk.

Steve carefully stalked Bucky through camp, hiding behind tents and around corners to see where Bucky would bed down for the night. Once more, he seemed to know exactly where he was going, so Steve’s worry that Bucky would have trouble finding a place to sleep seemed unfounded. Maybe he was going to find Dum Dum. They’d said they usually slept in close proximity to one another since Bucky had been Dum Dum’s CO.

Steve started to get excited when he realized Bucky was heading for the officers’ tents. Had Bucky just been lying so that he could surprise Steve? Steve had a vision of returning to his tent to find Bucky naked under the blanket on his bed, waiting for him, and he was distracted for several moments. Then he watched Bucky pause outside one of the other tents before ducking inside.

Well who the fuck’s tent was that? Steve squinted in the darkness, spotting the small Union Jack flying over the tent in question. The British flag. That meant the tent could only belong to one of two people. It wasn’t Peggy’s tent, that one was further down. Steve knew exactly where Peggy’s tent was after walking her back to it after dinner. So it had to be Lord Falsworth’s tent.

Steve saw red. Apparently his earlier suspicions, his jealousy had been right on the money. The Englishman and Bucky didn’t just share a secret Bucky didn’t want to tell him about, they shared a **few**.

Steve resisted the urge to go charging up to the tent and rip the pegs out of the ground. No wonder Bucky had pushed him away. No wonder he’d wanted Steve to go back first. Steve’s tent was just a stone’s throw away. It would have been too easy for him to accidentally catch Bucky in the act.

Steve tried to think of a different explanation for why Bucky would be bedding down with Falsworth, but he couldn’t come up with one. If they were just friends, why wouldn’t Bucky tell him where he was sleeping?

Then Steve got really suspicious. What had Falsworth been doing outside of his tent earlier tonight? Trying to distract Steve so that Bucky could sneak out of his own tent unseen? Even drunk, Falsworth had adamantly refused to tell Steve where Bucky was. He realized now what the man’s responses to his questions had meant. Oh, he was going to regret trying to pull one over on Steve Rogers.

That Bucky could just sleep with another guy after they’d been together in the woods today. _Damn_. Steve realized, thinking back, Falsworth had been the one to find them, and not for the first time. Hadn’t Bucky told Steve not to pursue him that first night they’d been caught? Had he wanted to avoid the inevitable confrontation between his two male lovers?

Steve was more hurt than angry, and that was saying something, because he was pretty damn pissed. This was breaking their rules. Never ever had they said it was okay to mess around with other guys; just girls.

Why? Why was Bucky doing this? Because he was disgusted by Steve now? Thinking about it, Falsworth was a lot closer to Steve’s old body type than Steve himself was now.

Was Steve just not Bucky’s type anymore? What a horrible thought. Maybe it was just that the two of them had started a relationship while Bucky had been here and Steve had been back in the U.S. Maybe it was as innocent as that, and now Bucky was having trouble letting go.

It blew Steve’s mind, though. Bucky with another guy? He’d always been such a ladies’ man. Steve had been sure he was the only guy Bucky had ever been and would ever be with. What a blow to his ego to find out that was not the case.

Now Steve just felt depressed. He knew he should go back to his tent, try to get some shut-eye. But part of Steve just couldn’t leave. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t going to tear down the tent and fight Falsworth for Bucky’s heart--he respected his friend too much to disregard what Bucky seemed to want, not to mention that it was sure to end in a dishonorable discharge, and Steve had worked too hard to get into the army to throw that all away now. But something in Steve wouldn’t let him leave.

So, feeling about as bad as he’d ever felt in his life--and that included multiple hospital stays and a serious battle with Polio--instead of going back to his own tent, Steve lay down outside Falsworth’s tent. He stretched out on the ground just outside the flap, blocking the way in and out.

Passive-aggressive as it was, this was also as close as Steve could get to sleeping near Bucky. He’d promised him he wasn’t going to leave him again, and Steve was going to keep that promise.

Also--and this was more on the petty side--Steve wanted them to know that he knew. Maybe he wouldn’t do anything about it, but Steve was really looking forward to one of them waking up tomorrow morning and finding him right there outside the tent. What would they have to say for themselves then?

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at the stars, fully intending to quietly fume all night. His ears strained for any sounds coming from inside the tent. If the two of them had the nerve to fuck with him right here... But all Steve could hear from beyond the canvas wall was silence.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Steve was covered in ice-cold water. Steve gasped, sitting up suddenly, not sure if he was drowning. Peggy was standing over him holding a bucket, and she looked mad as hell.

“Captain Rogers, you realise that as an officer, it’s your duty to set an example for the men around you?”

Steve just kept gasping, feeling the freezing water running down the back of his shirt and soaking into his pants.

“I don’t care how hard you might have been celebrating last night. Get back to your tent before someone else sees you sleeping here on the ground like a drunk and disorderly private first class.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.” Steve got to his feet, trying not to shiver.

“Never let me catch you shaming that uniform again, is that clear? I will have the colonel ship you back to the West End where you can tap-dance ‘I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandee’ until the war is over.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.” So much for being meant for more than this, Steve thought.

“You’re dismissed.” She marched away, throwing the empty bucket off to one side as she went.

Steve glanced around. What time was it? The sky was still dark, but Peggy had been fully dressed and made-up for a day’s work.

If she was, that probably meant Steve should be, too. He had to get out of these wet clothes anyway. Steve headed for his tent, shaking his head. His confrontation with Bucky and Falsworth was going to have to wait.

 


	13. While You Were Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally gets to the letters from his sisters and finds out more of what happened with Steve while they were apart. Falsworth comes back from his night of revelry, and they solidify their friendship. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece Becky is working on is [This one.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ROVy9PC8_8A)
> 
> In Bucky's photograph, Steve is standing in [this garden](https://objectsashistory.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/the-cloisters-museum-new-york.jpg).
> 
> Kate's sign-off is the McAllister family motto, which can be translated as "Boldly."
> 
> Falsworth is quoting from Walt Whitman's _To You._
> 
> This chapter is rated Teen and features:  
> Bucky (POV)  
> Bucky's sisters (text only)  
> Steve (mentioned lots)  
> Peggy (mentioned)  
> Falsworth

When Bucky returned to Falsworth’s tent, he found it blissfully empty. Because he’d had enough of Steve to last a while, he moved on to the stack of letters from his sisters. The one from Becky had the oldest date on it, so he started there.

_Dear Bucky,_

_Will you please tell Mum to let me start taking classes at City College?_

Bucky raised an eyebrow. Becky was a sophomore in high school. Just how was she planning on managing this?

_I know she’ll say yes if you tell her it’s okay. And she doesn’t know they only accept boys. I’m going to wear some of your old clothes and put my hair up in a cap._

So it was another one of her hair-brained schemes. She had moxy, Bucky had to give her that.

_What do you think I should tell them my name is? I like the name Francis, but it would be much easier to change one letter and be Bucky instead of Becky. Hah!_

Bucky tried to think if he had any old IDs left at home. If he did, she would no doubt try to impersonate him. _Good luck with that, Eggs._

_I’m just so bored at Assumption. There’s nothing more the sisters can teach me. Worse, they’ve started punishing me for embarrassing them when I ask questions to which they don’t know the answer._

Yep, that sounded like the Sisters of Charity all right. The sad part was, if you didn’t know Becky you’d think she was doing stuff on purpose to get under your skin. She had about as many social skills as Steve.

_I’ve started bypassing classes to practice piano in the chapel. No one ever looks for me there._

Well, it had to be better than ditching to smoke cigarettes, right?

_Because you might care, Stevie Rogers came to the house the day we saw you off at the Military Ocean Terminal. He was excited to tell us he’d finally been accepted into the army._

_The same damn day!_ Bucky clenched his jaw. _What the hell, Steve?_

_I, naturally, did not believe him; he’s far too scrawny and sickly to be accepted. But I examined his papers, and they seemed to be genuine. There was a special division name on them: the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Have you ever heard of that?_

Bucky hadn’t--or had he? Was that something Falsworth had mentioned once? He tried to recall.

_It sounds interesting. Stevie’s not smart enough for a science reserve, so I can only conclude he’ll be a research subject. That makes much more sense._

Bucky felt sick. That was so like Becky to write the words with the cool reserve of a scientist herself. And she’d been right. _What the **fuck**? _

_I’ve started to work on_ _Étude_ _No. 1. Mrs. Sorkin thinks I can do it. Of course I can, I’m just not sure yet if I like it well enough to play it for recital in July. I wish you could be there. Will you get leave sometime? I hope so._

Wouldn’t that be nice? For Becky to have to really work on a piece, it must be hard was all Bucky could think. He felt like shit that he’d missed her recital. And homesick.

_To make sure being in the army doesn’t rot your brain, here are some easy math problems so that you can exercise your intellect in between fighting Germans._

Bucky pulled out the extra sheet of paper she’d tucked inside. There was row after row of letters and numbers with different kinds of brackets around them. He groaned.  

_I expect them back with your answers when you reply._

_With All My Warmest Affection,_

And that was so Becks. She could really sound like a robot sometimes.

_Becky_

Bucky had no intention of solving those algebra problems. Those just might have to have gotten lost in the mail. He set Becky’s letter aside. Folding it back up and getting it into the envelope without using his left arm was going to be a problem. Luckily, opening the letters one-handed was easier.

The second oldest letter was from Patti. Bucky had to chuckle at the way her enthusiasm came through in the sheer size of her script.

_Dear Brother,_

_You won’t believe it! STEVIE IS BIG NOW!!!!!!_

He still didn’t believe it, if he was being honest.

_Stevie Rogers is the hero of New York! He chased a bunch of Nazis to DUMBO and he fought them all and won!_

Bucky might have chalked this up to being just another of his baby sister’s tall tales, except that seemed to be just what Steve had done at Hydra four nights ago.

_Now he’s famous! Can you believe our Stevie is famous now?_

That was almost harder to believe. Maybe his chorus girl show had been a big hit? What a weird thought.

_I made him sign all our pictures because his autograph is probably worth a lot now. He didn’t believe me but it is. I was going to take some to school to sell but Katie caught me. She said don’t go selling Bucky’s pictures of Steve._

Bucky wanted to beat his head against the table. All? All of his pictures of Steve now had fucking signatures on them?

_So I sent you one. Stevie’s autograph still looks the same, though._

Bucky reached into the envelope and found one of the pictures he’d taken in the photography class he and Steve had taken together. It had been expensive as hell, but Bucky had always justified the cost to himself by saying in the end, he would have a fuckton of photos of Steve. Steve had hated being in so many of his photographs, but that was the deal. Bucky took the class with him and Steve let himself be photographed.

This one was a great example: Steve standing behind a medieval fountain in the middle of one of the cloister gardens at Fort Tryon Park, hands thrust into his pockets, face turned as far away from the shot as possible, looking completely miserable. Bucky smiled, remembering that day. Now the medieval fountain had a great big S. Rogers scrawled across it. _Thanks a lot, Brat._ His baby sister could do so much damage without even trying.

_I told Stevie he should go back to the army now and win the war, but he was really sad and said he can’t._

Bucky was still waiting to hear how and why this discharge had happened.

_Stevie and I went to a Jewish funeral in Flushing._

That seemed random. Had Steve been going through another morbid period? After his mom had died, Steve had taken to lurking around cemeteries and attending any funerals he happened to pass by. Fortunately that had only lasted for a few weeks.

_I went along because Momma said it’s too sad to have to go to a funeral alone, and Stevie’s already been to too many funerals for his age. Since you’re not here, I went. Okay?_

It was sweet that she thought she had to ask. Patti had always been the closest thing Steve had to a sidekick. He could just imagine the two of them at a funeral together, her wearing an old pair of Steve’s slacks and her school uniform sweater, Steve wearing...a suit? How the hell had he gotten clothes that fit him after the procedure? If he was home again, hopefully Mom had hooked him up. Anyway, the both of them were blond and light-eyed. People had mistaken Patti and Steve for siblings in the past.

_Have you ever been to a Jewish funeral before? The man who died was named Abraham. We got to sit in the front row with his family because the rabbi said Stevie was like Abraham’s second son._

Now it all clicked into place. Dr. Erskine had been Jewish. Schmidt had mentioned that fact at least a dozen times in different mad rants about the serum.

_I held Stevie’s hand, because he cried a lot._

_Steve…_ He’d been so good at his mom’s funeral. This had clearly hit him hard.

_I cried, too, even though they kept saying magic words I didn’t understand._

_There was a beautiful lady there in a army uniform. I told her how beautiful. She was sad, but she didn’t cry like Stevie. She said her name is Margaret but I can call her Peggy._

Bucky found he was suddenly unable to read the letter because his fingers were crushing the paper. That damn dame had gotten to his kid sister, too? _What the fuck?_

_Peggy has an accent kind of like Momma’s because she comes from England. I asked her can girls be soldiers in England, and she said girls can be soldiers in America, too (did you know that, Brother?) Peggy said I can do anything I want when I grow up._

Bucky supposed that was a nice thing to tell a little girl, even though it wasn’t true. Then again, his other sister was hell-bent on dressing like a man so she could go to City College, so he couldn’t really blame Peggy for putting wild ideas into his sisters’ heads. They had plenty enough of their own.

_First, I’m going to build planes, but then maybe I’ll join the army, too. I don’t want a uniform with a skirt like Peggy’s, though, I want one like yours._

How Patti hated being made to wear skirts. She was constantly fighting the nuns at school on this.

_I hope you’re back from the army before I join, but if you’re not, I’ll see you then._

Bucky just shook his head.

_I miss you, Brother._

 

_Pat_

The hearts she had drawn on either side of her name were so Patti, he had to smile.

_P.S. Peggy gave Steve a hug at the funeral because he was crying. I think he loves her._

Ah, there it was. That heart-stabbing pain he’d actually been able to go ten minutes without feeling. So the wicked witch had met Steve at Camp Lehigh, and then followed him to Brooklyn? Or did she just meet up with him again in Queens? Bucky was glad he’d eaten the apple earlier, because his stomach felt too sick to manage anything right now.

He put that one aside and reached for Kate’s letter. On top was a short note also in his eldest sister’s hand, dated October.

_Bucky,_

_These letters were all returned to us this month. I’m not sure what happened, but I’m sending them with Stevie this time. He says the show is traveling to Europe to bolster the troops, and he’s going to find you no matter what._

Bucky traced the words with his finger. Steve had really said that?

_If this is in your hand, it means he did. I’m sorry for the shock, Bucky. I tried to send this ahead of time to warn you. Don’t be too angry with Steve._

Kate knew him way too well.

_I think his heart was in the right place._

_We all love and miss you dearly. Once I know you’ve gotten these, we’ll send more._

_Love,_

 

_Katie_

Well so much for Uncle Sam actually getting letters to you on the front lines. Maybe you weren’t expected to live long enough to get them. On that grim note, Bucky looked at the older letter his sister had penned.

_Dear Pretty,_

_So much has happened since you left--where to start?_

_Somehow, Stevie joined the army right after you left. He tried his very best to disappear off the face of the earth about then. The_ _timing_ _, Bucky. I tried to talk him out of it, but you know Steve._

_Becky said Stevie had gone to join some secret branch of the military that runs experiments on people. I was sure it was just another one of her wild conspiracy theories, but my God! This is the news article I saw on the way back from work last week._

Tucked inside the envelope was a news clipping from the front page of the New York Examiner dated June 23rd. It showed Steve peering through the window of a yellow cab door that was no longer attached to the cab, and the headline read:

Nazis in New York

Mystery Man Saves Child

Bucky read the whole article. Apparently Patti’s story hadn’t been so exaggerated after all.

Then he looked at the date on the paper again. June 23rd! Bucky had only shipped out June 15th! _What the fuck?_ In barely over a week, they’d grabbed Steve and turned him into Captain America?!

_The whole neighborhood was going crazy! Everyone recognized Steve’s face in this picture, and DUMBO’s so close. Mrs. O’Connell’s boy was working pier 13 that day and saw him. Bucky, you can’t tell from this picture, but Stevie, they did something to him, I can’t even say. I can’t believe Becky was right!_

Bucky looked at the newspaper photo again. He could see it, knowing what to look for. The man holding that cab door was Brick Shithouse Steve, not little Stevie Rogers. What had he done? Ripped the damn door off to bludgeon Nazis with it?

_He disappeared again after the piece ran--not that I expected him to just show up on our doorstep. So I went down to the Examiner and found out from a reporter that Steve left the scene in the company of a Senator Brandt._

Bucky knew there had to be way more to the story than Kate just going down and politely asking questions of a major newspaper in full swing.

_Your sister is kind of like a mafia hit man sometimes, you know that?_

Well, either way, she’d gotten the information, Bucky thought.

_I called the senator’s office and told them I was Stevie’s sister--well I practically am! When they didn’t cooperate, I went down to the office and made a scene._

The paper had probably gotten off easy, by comparison.

_All it took was a few tears and they gave me the name of the hotel where the Senator was staying._

Tears, huh? He was surprised Kate had used the soft touch for once.

_So I went right to the penthouse suite and knocked on the door, and there he was. I’m not sure which of us was more shocked to see the other!_

Bucky tried to picture it. It must have been like something out of a movie, Steve never suspecting that Kate would be able to track him down, and Kate coming face to face with Steve’s new body for the first time.

_Anyway, I dragged him back home for a long talk. Can you believe Steve actually thought he was going to avoid us after all that?_

Yes. Bucky could believe that 100%.

_He gave some weak excuse about needing to keep a low profile after being part of a top secret military project--I still can’t believe Becky was right!_

Bucky couldn’t either, actually. Too bad the kid couldn’t predict lotto numbers.

_I told him that was bunk and he belonged back home with us now he was out of the military. Can you believe they discharged him after what they did to him?_

What, so they had just kicked him out after their experiment had worked? Or was his Nazi-fight in Brooklyn too high profile for their department?

_What is wrong with those people? Steve finally caved when I told him we don’t feel 100% safe without a man around the house anymore (Mum doesn’t)._

Bucky worried about that, too. And now they were both here in Europe.

_The money you’ve sent has been a huge help. They’re raising everyone’s rent next month. Add to that Mum’s been drinking all the extra money I’ve been able to bring home from the pharmacy, and she flings dollars on the collection plate every mass like she can bribe God to keep you safe._

Bucky sighed. He wouldn’t have thought their mother’s drinking could have gotten any worse.

_Stevie says the senator wants to send him on the road with some patriotic review to get people to buy war bonds._

And Steve had tried to play that off like it’s what he’d been recruited to do from the start. _Nice try, Steve._

_I wish I knew what their plan was for him. Steve wants so much to do his part, he’ll do anything they say, and that scares me._

It scared Bucky, too.

_Kiss St. Christopher for me, since I can’t._

Bucky would never tell his sister what had become of the St. Christopher medal she’d given him before he’d left. Vampires weren’t the only monsters angered by the sight of holy symbols.

_I know he’s taking care of you for me._

Why were his eyes burning again?

_Write back when you can, okay? Be strong, Pretty Boy._

_Fortiter,_

 

_Kate_

Bucky covered his face with the letter and let go for a minute. Kate could never know what had happened to him at Hydra.

He must have been more tired than he’d thought, because Bucky fell asleep at the table after reading Kate’s letters. He dreamed that he and Kate had been called to Assumption to talk with the sisters like they had done in the past for Patti’s “difficulties.” Even when Mom had been home that early in the day, she was never in good enough shape to attend, so the task had fallen to her two eldest children.

But in the dream, it was Steve they were being called in to talk about. It was very surreal. “I’m not his dad,” Bucky was telling Sister Agnes, “I just care about him a lot.” Then one of the women--he wasn’t sure if it was Kate or the nun--started to berate him, yelling a bunch of things about setting a good example in the army, and Bucky woke up. Outside the tent, a woman’s voice was reading some poor sap the riot act.

Was it her? The wicked witch? It had to be, Bucky decided. There were no other women at camp. Whoever it was she was ripping to shreds, Bucky felt sorry for him. She sounded kinda scary. Bucky remembered what Steve had said about her knocking out a grown man. _Jesus._   

Bucky yawned, trying (and failing) to fold the letters up and put them back in their respective envelopes. Why had it had to be his left arm? He was left-handed. At least the doc had said Bucky only had to wear the brace for a week, and that mostly just as a reminder not to use his arm so that his shoulder would have time to heal.

“Hell’s teeth!” Falsworth stumbled in, clutching his head.

“Looks like you had some fun last night,” Bucky observed, careful to keep his voice low so as not to compound the problem of the Englishman’s hangover.

“I don’t suppose you got the license number of that lorry what drove over my skull?” Falsworth asked.

Bucky smiled. “Sorry.” He stood up and moved to usher Falsworth into the single chair, placing his right hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder to guide him. Falsworth clutched at him for balance, suddenly noticing Bucky’s arm sling in the process.

“My God!” he exclaimed, sobering quickly. “What’s happened?”

Bucky started to shrug and then winced. That had been a bad idea. “I just strained some muscles in my shoulder. No big deal.”

Falsworth fell into the chair, one of his hands still hovering over Bucky’s left arm. “But I don’t understand.” He groaned, clutching his head again. “You were asleep when I left. Did you leave?”

“Hold on a sec,” Bucky said, grabbing a mug and pouring Falsworth some water. He set it down in front of the lieutenant, gently. “Drink this,” he said. “It’s not coffee, but it’ll have to do for now.”

“Never touch the stuff,” Falsworth said, raising the mug to his lips. “I find even the best French roast is…” he winced, and Bucky went to wet the towel from yesterday. “Vile stuff.” When Bucky returned, he carefully removed Falsworth’s beret and laid the wet towel against his forehead.

“Better?”

Falsworth sighed with relief. “My kingdom for a cup of tea.”

Bucky glanced around, trying to discern what time it was. He moved to the tent flap and peered out. The sky seemed a little lighter than it had been. “If the mess is open, I could go grab you some hot water,” he offered.

“No, no.” Falsworth waved a hand at him. “Sit. I insist. Tell me about your arm.”

“Oh, right.” Bucky perched on the edge of the steamer trunk. “Wait, before I forget, I borrowed one of your jackets.” He smoothed his right hand down the front of the item in question. With the sling, he couldn’t exactly give it back just now.

Falsworth just stared.

“I...hope that’s okay,” Bucky hedged, not sure what to make of the look on the Englishman’s face.

“No, that’s…” He closed his eyes, probably suffering more physical effects of his hangover. “Please. Feel free to borrow whatever you like.” Falsworth cracked one eye a bit, as if he were afraid to let more than that much light in at once. “And the fit? Was it...satisfactory?”  

Bucky hadn’t even really thought of it. “I guess it’s a little snug in the shoulders, but. We’re just about the same size.” He smiled at Falsworth. “Anyway, it’s not like I can complain, taking another guy’s clothes without asking.”

Falsworth was quiet for a moment, like he was considering arguing a point. “Please,” he repeated finally. “What’s mine is yours. You've never to ask.”

Bucky took one look at the earnest expression on the Englishman’s face. _Oh no._ Were they doing this again? “Well, so long as we’re on the subject, I gotta confess, I ate that apple, too.” Bucky did feel a little bad about that. Apples weren’t that easy to come by.  

Falsworth smiled, and Bucky could tell the precise grade of headache he had by the dimness of his expression. “Oh no, I intentionally left it for you,” he said. “I’m pleased you found it.”

Bucky went from feeling awkward to spoiled. “Aw, Monty, you didn’t have to do that.” For a moment, Falsworth just looked stunned that Bucky had used his nickname. Bucky was okay calling Morita Jim, but he’d never addressed Falsworth by anything other than his rank or surname. “Sorry.” Now Bucky was feeling awkward again. “That was probably disrespectful.”

“No, no!” Falsworth stuttered, wincing at his own volume. “I rather liked it.” And now his face was getting a few shades darker. “That is--please. We’re neither of us on duty at the moment. Christian names are perfectly appropriate.”

“Then you have to do it, too,” Bucky pointed out.

Falsworth sucked both lips into his mouth, hesitating. “James?” It was so tentative, it made Bucky laugh.

“Call me Bucky,” he grinned. “All my other friends do.”

As he watched, the Englishman’s face grew darker still. “Very well…” he hesitated again, as though afraid to mispronounce a foreign word, “...Bucky.”

“There, see? That wasn’t so hard.” Bucky got up to refill Falsworth’s mug with water. “Keep drinking. That hangover’s not gonna go away on its own. Oh!” He reached his right hand into his pocket, remembering. “I got some extra from the medic.” Bucky placed some painkillers on the table in front of his companion. “Those should help, too.”

Falsworth picked them up gingerly. “I daren’t take these.” He looked up at Bucky. “You need them.” He looked at Bucky’s arm again, worrying.

“It’s just a strain,” Bucky told him. “I should be back to normal in a few days, they said.”

“But how did…?” He was looking up at Bucky with those puppy dog eyes. They were blue, Bucky realized. But, like, a dark blue. The kind that could change colors. Bucky hadn’t really noticed before. It made a difference, him not having the beret on.

Bucky turned away, answering Falsworth’s question. “Oh man, it was the dumbest possible thing. I decided to climb a tree. Don’t ask me why.”

“A tree?” Falsworth asked, as if Bucky had just confessed to climbing the Empire State Building like King Kong.

“Yeah, it was dumb.” Bucky glanced back with an embarrassed smile. “Then I fell, which was dumber.”

“You fell?” Falsworth actually rose from the chair with concern.

“Hey.” Bucky turned toward him, motioning for Falsworth to sit back down. “Careful of your head, pal. I’m fine.”

“Are you certain?” Falsworth came closer and took Bucky’s good hand.

“I swear.” Bucky tried to back away. Somehow he ended up backed against the canvas with the Englishman’s hand resting on his chest. “Really.” Bucky gave a nervous laugh. “You can ask them yourself.”

Falsworth just looked at him for a moment, saying nothing. “I have a confession to make,” he said.

_Shit._

He glanced away in shame. “Captain Rogers...was looking for you last night.”

“Oh, I know,” Bucky said, wondering when Falsworth was going to let him go. “He found me.”

“I see,” the lieutenant said, and he glanced back at Bucky, appearing to see something Bucky didn’t.

“What?”

“Ah. It’s nothing.” He turned away, finally letting Bucky go. “Perhaps I’ll just go and fetch that hot water, shall I?”

“No.” Bucky took a step forward. “Monty. You should sit back down, rest a minute. I can get it.”

But Falsworth was having none of it. He turned back to Bucky, and with an intense look, began to speak, his voice low and passionate, “None but would subordinate you--I only am he who will never consent to subordinate you.” And then, with no further explanation, he left the tent.

 _What the fuck was that?_ Bucky wondered. The English sure did talk funny. Either way, things just now had gotten a little intense for Bucky’s liking. It was probably for the best if he wasn’t here when Falsworth returned.

All the same, it felt kind of shitty to just leave after everything Falsworth had done for him. Bucky went back to the table and found some stationery and a pen. Then he shoved his letters into his pocket--the pocket of Falsworth’s jacket, to be more accurate--and ducked out. When the lieutenant returned, he would find the briefest of notes waiting for him on his desk.

  
_Thank You._


	14. If I Was to Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to debrief the former prisoners, and there's some disagreement over who gets to interrogate Bucky.  
> Violent fantasies are had. Furniture is broken.  
> Then Bucky has to face the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled the title of this chapter from the Ivan & Alyosha song "Bury Me Deep." I think it's apropos of Stucky-flavoured angst.
> 
> I feel like "the dreaded Captain Rogers" is sort of like "the Dread Pirate Roberts" only more benign. Also, he prefers dark-haired beauties to Buttercups. 
> 
> This chapter is rated Teen and features:  
> Falsworth (POV)  
> Peggy  
> Steve (POV)  
> Colonel Phillips  
> Bucky (POV)  
> Dum Dum

Falsworth was not surprised to find the tent empty when he returned. He had taken longer than necessary intentionally in order to give Bucky time to leave if he wished to do so. Falsworth understood he had crossed a line with the sergeant earlier, and thought it best they spend some time apart until he could regain control of his temper.

To think that Rogers could have intentionally harmed him, after everything Bucky had already suffered. It was unfathomably vile. That man did not deserve him. He was a cad through and through, and Falsworth hoped to never be under his command again, because he did not and could never respect him.

“Lieutenant Falsworth?” a soft voice called from outside the tent. It was the colonel’s assistant. 

“Yes, Corporal?”

“The colonel’s requested you for a meeting at 0600, Sir.” The young man hovered in the doorway, looking awkward.

“Thank you, Corporal,” Falsworth called back. “I’m just making tea and I’ll be along.”

“Agent Carter’s already requested tea for the meeting, Sir.”

“Ah.” Falsworth set the kettle down where it wouldn’t harm the furniture. Of course Agent Carter would have tea. And if Agent Carter was there, it meant this was an officers’ meeting, and not merely a meeting with the colonel. And that meant _he_ would likely also be there. “Thank you, Corporal. I’ll be along presently.” The American saluted and left.

Falsworth steeled himself as best he could for the possibility of seeing the dreaded Captain Rogers again. Bucky had left him the aspirin he’d offered earlier, so Falsworth took it. It warmed his heart to recall how the sergeant had looked after him this morning. Falsworth knew it didn’t mean what he wished it did, but he still cherished the memory.

There seemed nothing for it but to go. After a moment of thought, Falsworth tucked Bucky’s thank you note into his pocket, giving it a reassuring pat as he left the tent.

When he arrived for the meeting, only Agent Carter was waiting. “Good Morning, Lord Falsworth,” she greeted him primly.

Falsworth took the seat opposite her. “Good Morning, Agent Carter.” With no small amount of envy, he eyed the beautiful china teapot which sat in front of her on the table.

“I trust you had an enjoyable evening,” she said, with a sardonic quirk to her ruby lips.  

Falsworth grimaced. “Perhaps not as responsibly enjoyable as I should have had,” he confessed.

Her smile was sympathetic. “Everyone’s entitled to overindulge now and again. Tea?”

“Please,” Falsworth said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” she said, pouring him a cup and passing it to him along with the milk. Sugar had been rationed fiercely for so long now, Falsworth had learned to do without.

“I do hope the revels didn’t disturb your sleep last night,” he said, before taking a sip of tea and closing his eyes to savour it. That had been just what he’d needed. Apart from Bucky spread-eagle on a four poster bed, which he was unlikely to get in this lifetime.

Agent Carter’s smile did not reach her eyes. Her response was terse. “I’m used to sleeping in the vicinity of so many men by now. Though a few last night were sorely tempting me to take some target practice.”

Falsworth paused with his cup halfway to his mouth, uncertain how to respond to that. There was a swish of canvas behind him, and Falsworth turned to see the loathsome cad enter. He turned back quickly to hide his expression of disgust behind delicate china.

“Captain,” Agent Carter greeted him in a very pointed tone.

The American responded humbly, “Agent Carter.” There followed an awkward pause and Falsworth could only think the captain was trying to decide where to sit. He would no doubt wish to sit near Agent Carter, but she looked nearly as glad to see Rogers this morning as Falsworth was.

*

Of course Falsworth was here at this meeting. Steve wanted nothing more than to wring the guy’s neck. But he was already in the doghouse with Peggy. Steve doubted he would get back in her good graces by throttling the only other English person here. “Lieutenant,” he offered the man a brief greeting before moving around the table to sit next to Peggy. Steve thought the further away from that guy he was, the better it would be for everybody.

“Captain.” The look on his face...was like someone had shoved a bee up his bony British ass. He had no right to look upset. Steve was the one being cheated on here. (Well, if you could call your best pal bending over for another guy cheating.) Steve stared at him without another word, seriously considering starting a fight in spite of the fact Peggy was sitting right next to him. Because that would've been a terrible idea, Steve indulged in a brief, violent fantasy instead.

_“Just who the fuck do you think you are!?” he roared, lifting the smaller man up by his shirt. “Trying to take away my Bucky!?”_

And then the lily-livered limey would stutter and piss himself. And Steve would throw him through a wall. But the only walls here were canvas, which wasn’t half as impressive.

“Do you find us amusing, Captain?” Peggy asked, her voice sharp as a razor.  

Steve must have been smiling at his little daydream. Oops.

*

The cad had the gall to sit right across from Falsworth, staring at him so boldly, so rudely, like such a...an American. _Captain America_ _indeed_. _He stands for everything wrong with those yanks._ Falsworth held that bold stare, neither rising to the challenge he saw there nor backing down. What he really wanted to do was...

_The smart white gloves made a satisfying snap where they struck the blond boor across the cheek. “I challenge you to a duel!”_

_“I accept your challenge!” the captain would say. “Name your weapon!”_

_“Rapiers!” Falsworth would say, producing his from behind his back. How liberating it would be to carve a suitably humiliating epithet into that thick skin._ “En garde!”

_But of course, a man without honor would cheat. A great ox of a man like Captain Rogers would likely produce a claymore or somesuch._

_“Steve, stop!” Bucky would run out between them before either of them could make the first strike. “Don’t do this. I love both of you!”_

_“Now I’m_ really _gonna kill ‘im!” the captain would snarl._

_“Steve, no!” Bucky would cry, and somehow get in the way of the blow so that it was he lying on the ground, spilling his precious blood in the snow._

_“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--”_

“Do share the joke,” Agent Carter was saying. Falsworth jerked his attention back to the present, trying to discern whom she was addressing.

“Oh, um. Nothin’,” the Captain was stumbling over his words in a satisfyingly inept way. Falsworth permitted himself a smug smile. “Just happy to see you is all.”

“ _Really._ ” Agent Carter clearly did not believe a word of it, and neither did Falsworth. Fortunately for Rogers, the colonel entered just then.

“Gentleman,” he greeted them. “Agent Carter.” Phillips sat down, setting an impressive stack of folders on the table in front of him. He wasted no time beginning their meeting. “There are too many damn men in this camp. Some of ‘em need to get bandaged up and sent home, most of ‘em need to go back to their divisions and get on with the war. But before we can do that, we need to debrief every single man who was in that Nazi munitions plant and get all the intel we can on Hydra. That means we’ve got a shit-ton of interviews to wade through today, so here’s how we’re going to divide up the work: Lieutenant, you’ll be interviewing soldiers the medics have told us need to get sent back.” He handed the top folder to Falsworth.

“Let’s get these fellas home to their families ASAP. I’ll start with the soldiers who know the most about those special Hydra weapons. The sooner we get that intel to Stark, the better.” He handed the next folder to the captain.

“Rogers, you’ll be with me for the first few, since you’ve never done this kind of interview before. Once I’m convinced you know your ass from your elbow, I’m gonna have you work down the list with the lieutenant.” Falsworth tried not to show his amusement at the colonel basically telling Rogers he needed a nursemaid in order to do his job properly.

“Agent Carter, I’m putting you on debriefing soldiers we believe have the highest priority information about Hydra.” He opened up what was currently the top folder in the stack and glanced at something. “From what I can see, number one is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Take all the time you need with each man. I don’t have to tell you how to do your job.”

“Indeed not, Colonel,” Agent Carter replied, looking like she would have liked to say more, but holding her tongue.

“Colonel, if I may--” Falsworth cut in before Phillips could dismiss them to their duties. “Sergeant Barnes and I spent a great deal of time together as prisoners--”

He was cut off by a distressing grinding sound, and suddenly a giant fissure appeared in the solid oak table just in front of where Captain Rogers was sitting.

“Oh, what in the Sam Hill?” The colonel stood to examine the crack in the wood with dismay. “This is my great grand-daddy’s antique war council table!”

Rogers clasped his hands in his lap, looking guilty. “Er. As I was saying,” Falsworth continued, clearing his throat for attention. “I was the one with whom Barnes shared what information we currently have regarding--”

“I know what he told you,” the colonel cut him off in his casually arrogant way. “I read the report, Lieutenant, why do you think I put him at the top of the debriefing list?”

“Yes, Sir, but--”

“The reason I didn’t put you in charge of his interview, Lieutenant, is because you already have the information in your head one way from when he told you at the factory. Now if he tells you something different, there’ll be a conflict with what you think you know, and what we need is the information, not different versions of it. The only one who has that actual information, reliably, is Barnes. So we need to talk to him _without_ you there risking your version getting in the way.”

Was Rogers honestly sitting across the table smirking triumphantly at him? Why, that--

“But Colonel--” Falsworth protested. How and by whom Bucky was interrogated took precedence over getting revenge on his ungrateful lover.

“I got no time for ‘buts’ today, Lieutenant,” the colonel cut him off. “Moving on.”

“Actually, Colonel--” Now it was Rogers’ turn to butt in. “I’ve known Bucky--Sergeant Barnes since we were kids. I know I could do his interview better than anybody. He trusts me--”

“I’m not lookin’ for somebody he can trust, I’m lookin’ for somebody who knows how to ask the hard questions and get every last fact out of that boy’s head. You--” Falsworth couldn’t help but enjoy the way the colonel constantly spoke down to the captain and insulted his intelligence. “--are not capable of that.”

“Colonel, if you’d just give me a chance--” Rogers argued.

“Like you just said yourself,” Phillips kept going, as if the captain had never spoken. “You’re too attached to the boy. You won’t be able to push until we get everything we need.”

“Push?” The captain looked both worried and angry at the colonel's choice of that word. Falsworth, sadly, knew what the colonel was getting at.

“Agent Carter has special training in multiple interrogation techniques. She’ll get us what we need.”

“Sergeant Barnes is not our enemy!” Rogers blurted out.

Phillips gave him a measuring look, as if considering whether to admonish or dismiss him. “Of course he’s not, Rogers. Don’t worry. Agent Carter will take good care of your friend.”

And suddenly Falsworth realized just how terrible this would be for Bucky. As if it weren’t humiliating enough, being made to speak in detail about his ordeals to a member of the gentler sex, he would be forced to do so to his lover’s new flame.

“Won’t you, Agent Carter?” the colonel finally addressed the one person who hadn’t interrupted him.

“I’m going to do my job, Colonel,” she said. “That rarely involves donning kid gloves.” Agent Carter looked at Rogers. “Don’t think for a moment I’ll be a soft touch because I’m a woman.”

“I know you won’t be,” the captain said, stupidly. From the way Agent Carter’s nostrils flared, he’d managed to add insult to injury. How amusing.

“Then that’s settled,” the colonel drew their meeting to a close. “We’ll meet again at 1500 hours to discuss where we are.” He rose from the damaged table. “Rogers, you’re with me.” Phillips strode from the tent, the captain chasing at his heels.

“The nerve of that man!” Agent Carter exclaimed, and Falsworth was uncertain to which American she referred. He wanted to be sympathetic, but just now Falsworth had something far more pressing on his mind.

“Agent Carter,” he said. “May I speak plainly?”

She looked nonplussed, then intrigued. “Proceed, Lieutenant.”

“The information Phillips hopes to glean from Sergeant Barnes...the delicate nature surrounding the circumstances in which he received it--”

“It’s shocking,” she finished for him. “Not fit for the ears of a lady, is that what you’re going to say?”

“Not precisely…” Falsworth began.

“I read your report, Lieutenant. I’m familiar with the circumstances in which Barnes obtained his information.”

“Then surely you can understand that a man might not wish to...discuss such delicate matters with someone of the fairer sex…”

Agent Carter glared at him. “I’m not concerned about Barnes’ feelings or his need to protect the delicate illusion of manhood,” she said. “I’m going to do my job, just as if I were one of you. Only I shall do it better, because I am better at my job than any of the men who consider themselves my equals.”

Falsworth stared at her in a panic, uncertain how to get back to the point he’d been making, and not the one she seemed to think he had been. “I’m merely suggesting that the intimate nature of--”

“I know precisely what you’re suggesting,” Agent Carter told him. “And I reject it. Good day, Lieutenant.” And she, too, rose from the table.

“Agent Carter, I implore you!” Falsworth followed after her. “This doesn’t concern your ability to perform your duties, it concerns the damaged soul of a man who has already suffered too much. Surely we owe him the courtesy of making certain this interview does not compound his humiliation?”

Her sharp eyes glanced back at him, considering.

*

“Colonel, wait up!” Steve called, rushing to catch up to the old bulldog, who could move at a good clip when he wanted to.

“Keep up, son, you’re fallin’ behind.”

“Please, Sir, it’s about Barnes.”

“He’s your best friend and you’re worried about him. Believe it or not, I get that, captain.” He looked over at Steve. “I used to have a friend or two myself before I turned into the hateful old bastard I am today.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Sir,” Steve replied with care.

“You don’t have to, Rogers. I know what everyone says about me behind my back. I was a private who despised all my COs, too, once.”

Steve tried a different tack. “The trouble is, Sir, if you could just hear me out--”

“Keep talking, captain.” The colonel didn’t slow his pace a bit, striding across camp toward the tent that served as his office.

“The stuff we might have to ask Barnes...I’m afraid he’ll shut down if a girl--if a woman asks.”

“He the gentlemanly type?” Phillips asked.

“No, Sir--that is--it’s more about having to talk about something--” Steve glanced around, paranoid they would be overheard. “Something that personal in front of a dame.”

The colonel stopped. “You’re afraid he’ll be humiliated, having to admit it to her.”

“Absolutely, Sir.”

Phillips glanced back at Steve. “You think he’ll shut down?”

Steve nodded. “I think it’s a real possibility, Sir.” Honestly, whatever Steve had to say to get Bucky out of this interrogation, he would say it.

“Well, shit-sticks.” The colonel considered. “Corporal!” he bellowed for his secretary, since they were almost at his tent.

The young man came running out as if the tent were on fire. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Go tell Agent Carter there’s been a change of plan.”

Steve heaved a sigh of relief. “Tell her take the second name off that list first. I’ll be interviewing Barnes myself around 1000 hours.”

“Yes, Sir.” The corporal hurried back in the direction from whence they’d come.

“Don’t think I changed my mind about you being there,” Phillips told Steve, starting off again at his fast-paced walk. “I’m bringing Barnes in later, because I want you to get a feel for how this works first. I can’t have you looking over my shoulder all day.”

Steve was silent with fear. What had he done? He’d traded Bucky’s humiliation at Peggy’s hands for his humiliation by Colonel Phillips.

*

Having gained Agent Carter’s consent to have Colonel Phillips question Barnes instead of herself, Falsworth’s first order of business--interviews be damned--was to find Barnes and warn him. The mess tent seemed the most likely place at this hour, and he found Barnes seated at a table with Corporal Dugan fawning over him. He certainly was a popular fellow.

Falsworth approached them somewhat indirectly, hoping Barnes would not be tempted to flee at the sight of him after the way they’d parted ways earlier.

“So I says to him,” Dugan was in the midst of relating some tale of mirth. “I says, don’t look now, pal, but there’s a salami in your--”

“My apologies for interrupting,” Falsworth said, trying to be as unassuming as possible. “I’m afraid it’s urgent I speak with the sergeant in private for a moment.”

The corporal looked askance at Barnes. “Sounds serious.”

“I hope not,” Bucky smiled, pushing himself up from the table. “Dum Dum, you go ahead and eat. I’ll be back in a minute, and you can finish your story.”

“Sure thing, Sarge!” the large man saluted with one hand while the other shoveled eggs into his mouth at an alarming rate.

Falsworth made his way outside, and Barnes followed. “What is it, Monty?” he asked, and Falsworth’s heart fairly sang. He’d been so afraid they would be back to addressing one another by rank only again after his earlier loss of decorum.

“Bucky…” Falsworth nearly blushed just to speak his nickname. “The colonel will be conducting an interview with you later this morning...regarding the information you possess as to Schmidt’s plans.”

Gone was the jovial smile Bucky had worn only a moment ago. It had been replaced with a distant, worried look.

“I feel as though I’ve failed you,” Falsworth went on. “I volunteered to conduct your interview myself, as we’ve already spoken of these things--”

“But the intel’s important, so the colonel wants to hear it with his own ears,” Bucky finished, looking grim but determined.

“Something like that, I think, yes,” Falsworth said, apologetically.

Bucky offered him a sad little smile. “It’s all right.” He reached out with his good hand and gently squeezed Falsworth’s arm, a gesture of cameraderie. “Thanks for trying, pal.”

“I’m so very sorry.” Falsworth couldn’t seem to stop apologizing.

“It’s okay.” Bucky shrugged, wincing. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“I’m afraid I’ve got several interviews to conduct myself this morning,” Falsworth said, “but may I meet you for lunch?”

Bucky offered a wan, lopsided smile. “Sure, I guess. I mean, if the colonel’s done with me by then.”

Falsworth found it difficult to smile back. “If not, then I shall wait for you,” he said.

“I mean, if you really want to--”

“I do,” Falsworth told him, firmly.

Bucky’s eyes warmed a little at that. “You’re a good friend, Monty.”

“No less of a friend than you deserve,” Falsworth said, his point lost on Bucky.

“Sergeant Barnes?” the colonel’s secretary interrupted them.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Falsworth said, giving Bucky’s good shoulder an encouraging pat before he turned to go.

*

“Colonel,” Bucky said, entering the tent. “You asked to see me?”

“Why don’t you go ahead and close that flap behind you, son?” the old battle-axe said. “Come on in and take a seat when you’re ready.”

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for this. Falsworth had been kind to warn him, but there had really been no way to prepare. Bucky had spent the last two hours worrying himself literally sick. So much for breakfast.

He did as the colonel had asked and walked over to the uncomfortable-looking folding chair that had been placed in front of Phillips’ desk. As he lowered himself carefully into it, Bucky tried to ignore the colonel’s eyes watching his every move like a hawk.

“I s’pose you know what this is about,” the man said. Bucky merely nodded. “Before we start, I want you to know it’s just gonna be you and me here for this. Normally I’d have my secretary here taking notes, but I sent him on some errands that should keep him busy till this afternoon.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was expected to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“That also means you gotta bear with me. I’ll be taking notes by hand, and I can’t see this goddamned paper in front of me without these.” The colonel lifted his reading glasses off of his nose briefly. “I’m old, and my shorthand is rusty, so I’ll probably tell you to slow down, or have you pause from time to time.”

“Understood, Sir.”

The colonel just looked at him for a moment, then he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “Now I got a few things to say before we get into this, and you’re gonna listen. You may think you’re unique in what you suffered over there at Hydra, but let me assure you, you are not.”

Bucky really did not want to hear this, but he kept quiet.

Phillips leaned forward again, placing his hands on the desk. “War is hell, son. Times like these, men do things to one another that’d never even cross their minds during peace time. The important thing to remember is, it doesn’t make you less of a man.”

Bucky could feel the blood slowly draining from his face.

“It’s nothing you asked for, and it’s nothing you deserved, no matter what Hydra might have told you.”

Really, Bucky just wished a hole would open in the floor beneath his chair and swallow him up.

“What I’m saying, son, is there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This was something what got done to you, not something you did. You’re blameless. Understood?”

Bucky didn’t trust his voice to reply, so he just nodded.

“Secondly--” the colonel leaned closer, his gravelly voice, usually set to a dull shout, quieting to merely a stage whisper. “Have you had the medics check you out yet, son?”

Bucky had removed his arm sling before coming here. He hadn’t wanted to explain to the colonel how he’d gotten the injury. “Yes, Sir,” Bucky said. “I had just a couple of cuts and bruises Captain Rogers wanted me to get dressed.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Phillips said, and Bucky had a bad feeling. “From the sound of it, this was a repeat offense,” he ground on. “This ain’t my first rodeo, son. I know how these things work. Long term abuse like that’s gonna cause injuries. _Private_...injuries.”

Bucky prayed to the Blessed Virgin for a miracle to make the colonel just stop talking.

“Now your instinct may be to keep those to yourself. To suffer through, hope they heal on their own. You may think they’re too private for a doctor to look at.” Then Phillips looked at him sympathetically, and there was nothing worse he could have done to Bucky. “You’re wrong, son. So when we get done here, I want you to report straight to the medics and have them take a look at you. ALL of you. That's an order.”

“Yes, Sir,” Bucky’s voice came out as little more than a harsh whisper.

“Now, then.” The colonel poured a glass of water from a tall pitcher that rested on the corner of his desk. He passed it over to Bucky. “You’re gonna tell me everything from the beginning, and when you get to a part we can skip, I’ll let you know.”

Bucky stared at the edge of the table, wondering why none of his prayers ever seemed to get answered.  

“Take your time, son,” the colonel said.

“I was there maybe a week before they first came for me,” he began. “The guard came over to me in the middle of my work detail and told me Schmidt had asked for me…”

*

Steve had been on pins and needles since the colonel had sent him to start his own interviews this morning. Knowing that Bucky was going to have to go through it all again, word by word, and he couldn’t be there, not even as quiet moral support, had been eating him alive.

Steve didn’t know how good the interviews he’d done were, and what’s more, he didn’t care. What he did know was that it was time for lunch, and that meant he finally had some time to himself to run and find Bucky.

Because Colonel Phillips had told Peggy to take as long as she needed with each man, Steve had a sneaking suspicion that the colonel would still be interrogating Bucky. He sprinted all the way to the colonel’s tent, only to find it unoccupied. “Bucky?” he asked aloud, as though his friend might answer him from around some invisible corner.

Maybe the interview hadn’t been that bad, and they’d gotten out early. That probably meant Bucky would be at lunch now. Hoping that was the case, Steve sprinted over to the mess tent, his eyes scanning the men he passed for that familiar face. Steve finally spied him sitting alone with another guy.

It was who the guy was that made Steve pause before rushing over. Why? Why did it have to be him? What did he have to offer Bucky that Steve didn’t have?

The two of them were speaking quietly, their heads close together for privacy. No one else was even sitting near them. To interrupt now…

Steve wasn’t sure he had it in him to act casual with the two of them. And what could he possibly say to Bucky with Falsworth there? None of the things he’d planned to say next time he saw Bucky.

_Sergeant Barnes and I spent a great deal of time together as prisoners..._

At his side, Steve’s hand balled itself into a fist. No, he definitely couldn’t keep his cool with the two of them together like they were now. _Why, Bucky?_ A small voice asked from inside of Steve. A voice that wasn’t angry, but sad. Hurt.

Steve turned around and left the tent. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He decided to just go for a run alone while he had a break. The trouble was, he’d still have to come back at some point.


	15. Through the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to talk. Steve takes Bucky away from all this for the evening.  
> After several colossal misunderstandings, good things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! *sticks the landing*  
> I think I just won the Olympic gold for cat-herding!
> 
> This chapter is Explicit, and features Steve and Bucky ONLY. POVs all around.

On his run, Steve did a lot of thinking.

The reason he’d been so desperate to find Bucky just now was to check if his friend was okay after his interrogation by the colonel. So maybe Falsworth had beat him to it. The Englishman had proven he was worried about Bucky, too, in the meeting this morning. He’d actually spoken up about who should interview Bucky before Steve had.

So if they both worried about Bucky, did it really matter that Falsworth had been the one to get to him first after his interrogation?

 _YES_ , that little voice inside of Steve said.

But did it really? If someone was there to make sure Bucky was okay, wasn’t that the most important part?

Steve couldn’t hold it against Falsworth for having been a POW at Hydra when Steve was back in the U.S. touring with the show. What if there had been no one there to look after Bucky while he was a prisoner? Wouldn’t that have been way, way worse?

Of course Steve wished it had been him. He’d have given anything to join the 107th the same time Bucky had. But it hadn’t worked out that way.

Steve thought back about his behavior last night and this morning. Maybe Peggy had been right--though she hadn’t known it at the time. The way he’d been acting, the thoughts he’d been thinking, he’d come close to breaking his promise to Dr. Erskine.

Steve thought about what ‘a good man’ would do in his shoes. A good man wouldn’t think of harming one of his allies. A good man would be grateful that Bucky had other people to look after him when Steve couldn’t. A good man would find out what Bucky wanted, and honor his wishes. Even if it made him feel like unwanted trash. Like his one friend in the world had finally decided he didn’t want to be that one friend anymore.  

With a heavy heart, Steve returned to his last few hours of interviews, and this time, he did the best he could. He even coordinated with Falsworth between debriefings.

Steve couldn’t hate anyone for loving Bucky. It was totally understandable. Bucky was probably the most lovable person Steve had ever met, after his mom.

At the afternoon officers’ meeting, all four of them agreed they had quite a ways to go yet. The colonel announced he’d be sending for more SSR staff to debrief the soldiers, and in the meantime, they’d have to do the best they could. Once they’d narrowed it down to those men with the best knowledge of the enemy, they would all go back to London and draw up a plan.

When Phillips dismissed them, Steve stayed behind to thank the colonel for listening to him and agreeing to debrief Bucky himself. He was sure it had still been an ordeal for Bucky, but it could have been worse. The colonel had made a rare show of human kindness this morning, and Steve figured that deserved to be acknowledged.

“You should have a talk with that boy,” Phillips told him. “We don’t have a psychologist here in camp, and Barnes is gonna need a friend to come through all of this.”

It scared Steve that someone tough as nails like Phillips would make that assessment after hearing what Bucky had been through. “I know,” Steve said. “I’m on it, Sir. Thank you.”

After that, it was time to find Bucky. Steve didn’t know where Bucky was, but he did have an idea where Bucky was likely headed if he wasn’t already there. This would be awkward, but it was time that they talked. Falsworth was just going to have to deal with Steve taking Bucky away for a little bit.  

When Steve got to the lieutenant’s tent, though, the flap was tied up, and no one was inside. That was fine, Steve thought, he could wait. He paced up and down the row of command tents trying to think of everything he wanted to say, practicing in his head how he would say it. Bucky was bound to show up eventually, he just had to be patient.

Steve was just starting to doubt himself when Bucky finally came trudging back. He looked like hell, white as a sheet and moving like he was bone-tired. Steve blamed himself. If only he’d been able to convince the colonel to let him do Bucky’s interview.

“Hey,” Steve said, because Bucky hadn’t noticed him standing there looking awkward with his hands in his pockets yet. His mind was clearly somewhere else.

*

At the sound of Steve’s voice, Bucky looked up. And in spite of how tired and wrung-out he was feeling, Bucky experienced a brief moment of awe. Last night in the dark, he had missed the full effect of Steve in uniform. God, he looked good. Whatever Bucky felt about Steve’s new body, it could wear a suit like no one else. Between the total mind-body fatigue and staring at Steve in uniform, Bucky forgot to speak.

“Buck.” One corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up in a cocky smile.

Bucky was so tired, his brain just didn’t seem to want to work. “Sorry, uh...Captain.” They were in public, Bucky remembered at the last minute. It was best to address Steve by his rank here in camp.

Steve frowned at him, worried. Bucky supposed he wasn’t doing as good a job of acting normal as he’d thought he was. “C’mon, Buck,” Steve said. “It’s me. Don’t you ‘Captain’ me, too. I’ve had more than enough of being an officer for one day.”

Bucky was so tired. He was sure there was a story behind what Steve had just said, only he didn’t have the energy to listen sympathetically right now. “What do you want, Steve?”

All right, that had come out rude, and Bucky hadn’t meant for it to. But he was feeling raw and violated after his ordered exam, and he didn’t have the energy to hold Steve’s hand and make him feel better right now. Sometimes Bucky was the one who needed taking care of.

Steve’s expression grew sad, and his gaze fell to the ground. If Bucky had had the energy to feel guilty, he would have. And then Steve said the three worst words in the English language: “Can we talk?” If there had been a bridge handy, Bucky would have jumped off it. Steve looked up at him, his eyes vulnerable.

 **_Damn_ ** _it._ “I gotta be honest with you, Steve.” Bucky took a breath. “After the day I had, I’m not really sure I’m up to it right now.”

Steve moved closer, so he could place a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. His bad shoulder. Bucky winced. “Where’s your sling?” Steve asked.

Bucky couldn’t remember seeing Steve at any point when he’d been wearing it. But then, he was tired. Events were a little jumbled together in his mind. “I took it off.” He didn’t have the energy to give Steve the full explanation.

“So...you’re better?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky’s arm as though he expected to see something else.

Bucky shrugged with his good shoulder, shaking his head noncommittally.

“Go put it back on,” Steve told him in fatherly tones that brooked no argument. “Then meet me back here in five.”

“Steve--” But he’d already jogged off to God knew where.

What part of ‘I’m not sure I’m up to this’ did he not understand? Right now Bucky just wanted to crawl into the tent and lie down. On his belly. And forget the feeling of having been probed and prodded by the medics for the last hour.

With a sigh, Bucky wandered into Falsworth’s tent and looked around for his sling. After the lieutenant had warned him this morning, Bucky had dropped by to hide a few things before he’d gone to see the colonel. He found it where he’d left it, inside Falsworth’s steamer trunk, Bucky’s letters tucked inside. In the distance, someone started up an engine. It was too loud for a jeep. Bucky wondered idly what new vehicle was driving through camp as he tucked his elbow back into the sling and left the letters in the trunk for later.

The roar of the engine became louder. Bucky poked his head out of the tent in time to see Steve turn the corner, riding a motorcycle. “Steve? When the hell did you learn to ride a motorcycle?”

Steve stopped even with Bucky, kicking one leg out to keep the bike upright. “Get on,” he said, ignoring Bucky’s question. Bucky looked at him dubiously. “Come on.” Steve’s smile could have melted butter. “We’ll just go for a little ride. No talking necessary.”

Bucky considered for a moment. That actually sounded pretty nice. The roar of the engine would prevent any attempts Steve might make at conversation. And maybe getting the wind in his face would help Bucky feel less claustrophobic, less like he was slowly suffocating. Gingerly, he threw a leg over the seat and settled in behind Steve.

“You don’t have to hold on if you don’t want,” Steve said, “but it’s probably safer if you do.” Realizing that Steve meant for Bucky to put his arm around him, Bucky gripped the back of the seat. Steve revved the engine, and they took off with a jolt. Bucky nearly lost his hold, so he gripped Steve’s shoulder in order not to fall off.

Steve found the road quickly, and soon they were hurtling through the woods much faster than Bucky would have thought possible on a dirt road. Riding on a motorcycle was very different from riding in a train or inside a car. It felt way more dangerous. Eventually, Bucky gave in, and just put his arm around Steve. There was no reason to deny himself the contact, he reasoned; it was appropriate to the context. And with Steve facing forward, he couldn’t hold Bucky in return or try to start something they would both regret.

Bucky rested his forehead against Steve’s collar, inhaling the musky scent of his leather jacket, and just letting the world fly by. He couldn’t say how far they rode, just that it was nice to move and move and move and not have to talk. They were going so fast, it felt as though he might have a real shot at outrunning his problems, and though Bucky knew that wasn’t true, it was nice to pretend.

With a roar from the engine, they began to slow, and then Bucky felt the bike tilting as Steve brought them to a halt. He looked up to see they’d come to the edge of a small lake. Some of the trees still had their fall color. It was a grey, overcast day, but somehow the scene was still picturesque. The trees cast their reflections in the water, drifts of multi-colored leaves gathering between their roots and the edge of the lake. Bucky took a moment to just look at it. It was hard to remember the world could still be beautiful.

Then Steve was climbing off the bike ahead of him, putting down the kickstand to keep it from falling over. He held it upright until Bucky slipped off the back. Without looking at him, Steve walked to the edge of the water.

“Did you know about this place?” Bucky asked.

“We don’t have to talk, Buck,” Steve said.

“I know.” As far as Bucky was concerned, they weren’t talking. Talking was with a capital T. This was just kind of amicable conversation about nothing in particular.

“If you ever want to talk, though,” Steve said. “I’m here.”

“I know,” Bucky said again. He bent down to pick up a stick, and leaned back to throw it toward the surface of the lake. It got some decent distance.

“We’ll always be friends,” Steve said, and Bucky wasn’t sure from Steve’s inflection if he’d meant it as a question or a statement.

“‘course,” Bucky said, hunting around for something else to throw into the water.

“No matter what happens. No matter who else comes into the picture, we’ll always have each other.”

 _Oh no._ Was this it? Was this the conversation?

“Sure, Steve,” Bucky said, feeling a dull ache in his heart that was somewhere between bleeding and weeping. “Like I always said, till the end of the line.” Bucky made the mistake of glancing over at Steve, then. He was red around the bridge of his nose and the peaks of his cheekbones, like he was about to cry. “Steve?”

“I just want you to be happy, Bucky. Whatever happens. Maybe you feel like you can’t trust me, but that’s the bottom line. Whatever you want, whatever makes you happy. I’m your friend. That won’t change.”

Whatever made him happy? What the fuck was Steve talking about? _He_ was the one who had to let go, not Steve. “Steve, what are you talking about?”

Steve looked hurt. “I know, Buck. About the two of you. I thought I could just sit on it, let you do your thing without saying anything, but. I can feel you moving away from me, and it hurts. I never wanna not have you in my life. So I wanted you to know...I’m tryin’ real hard to be happy for you. I’m not gonna stand in your way.”

Bucky just stared at him. Wasn’t that supposed to be _his_ line? “Steve. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Buck,” he said, dead serious, his expression noble yet sad.

“No I don’t,” Bucky insisted, starting to get angry. “ _You’re_ the one who’s moving on. Not me.” Was Steve making some kind of cruel joke?

Steve blinked. “How can you say that? I’m right here. I just been trying to give you two your space.”

“We two what?” Bucky asked. “It’s just me here, asshole. Look around.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “If you really can’t say it, I’m not gonna make you.”

“Steve.” Bucky gripped his shoulder. “Start. Making. Sense. I’m not kidding.” His left hand was clenched in a fist in spite of his arm being in a sling.

Steve smiled sadly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He turned back toward the water, pulling out of Bucky’s grip.

“Steve!” Bucky wanted to shake him. “Tell me what you mean!”

“It’s fine.” Steve shrugged, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “If this is all we have now, the occasional ride through the woods, I’m okay with that.” Then he shook his head. “All right, I’m not okay with that. But I will be.” He smiled at Bucky again, his expression full of pain. “Just give me time.”

“This is not fair, Steve.” Bucky’s index finger was extended, but he didn’t have the energy to raise it to point at Steve. It just sort of hung at his side at an angle, like a forgotten gun. “This is not fucking fair. Whatever game you’re playing.”

“Game?”

“I don’t fucking appreciate it,” Bucky pushed on. “You have **no** idea how hard this has been for me.”

“For you?” Now Steve looked like he was getting angry.

“I knew this day would come. I mean, I did. We couldn’t stay kids forever.” Bucky started to pace, trying like hell to keep all the jagged pieces of himself together. “But why did it have to be now? Here, in the middle of a war zone? Why did it have to be _her_?”

“Her?” Steve looked perplexed.

“It could’ve been one of the nice girls from the neighborhood back home. I know all those girls.”

“Biblically,” Steve interjected.

“Fuck you.” Bucky pushed on, refusing to get derailed by Steve’s dig. “That would’ve given us time...here, at least. We could have been together one last time. Just the two of us. Like the old days.”

“You wanna be together one last time?” Steve was staring at Bucky now, intensely.

Bucky’s mouth opened and shut. He was afraid to say what he wanted. How could Steve say yes? Agent Carter was right here with them every day. He could hardly ignore her to have one last fling with Bucky.

But Steve didn’t ask again. He just walked over and kissed Bucky, hard. When Steve stopped, he kept his eyes closed, like he couldn’t bear to look at Bucky right now. “I hate that he gets to do this now instead of me.”

Bucky looked up at Steve, horrified. “Do you mean Schmidt?” How could Steve bring _that_ up at a moment like this? Bucky turned away, wrapping his arms around himself. “He never kissed me, Steve. It wasn’t like that.”

*

Steve felt sick to his stomach. Why would Bucky think he’d been talking about _that_? “No--I know--I mean, I don’t know, but.” Steve clenched his jaw, swallowing down bile. “Buck, promise me we’ll never talk about that again,” he said in a rush, needing for the subject to be over.

Bucky turned back to stare at him accusingly.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I can’t handle it.”

“Then why did you bring it up?!” Bucky asked, angrily.

“I didn’t.”

“You just said ‘he gets to do this instead of me.’ What the fuck, Steve? Who the hell else is supposed to be kissing me if not you?”

For a brief moment, Steve wondered if it could be possible he’d gotten things wrong. “Well. You know,” he said, not wanting to say the words in case it made them more true.

“No, I **don’t** know.” Bucky was getting so pissed. Why was that such a turn-on? “So either say what you fucking mean, or I’m outta here.”

Steve hesitated in spite of Bucky’s threat. “You and...I meant you and...Falsworth.” He mumbled the man’s name. It was hard to say it; he couldn’t even look at Bucky as he did so.

“Steve.” Bucky moved closer, trying to get Steve to look at him. “Me and Falsworth what? You don’t think...that me and him are…?”

“You’re not?” Steve said, feeling the first nudge of hope in what felt like days.

“No!” Bucky gasped. “You fucking dumbass. What the fuck gave you that idea?”

Steve crushed Bucky against him in a huge hug of relief. “Oh God, Buck. I thought I lost you.”

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice was muffled against his chest. “Answer my damn question.”

“Well, I...I saw you go back to his tent. I know you been sleepin’ there, and you were keepin’ it secret, so…”

Bucky’s voice was flat and unamused. “You think because I sleep in another guy’s tent, I’m fucking him? Is that what you think of me? I just fuck any guy who sleeps near me?”

“No, Buck.” And now Steve was all apologies. He stroked Bucky’s hair. “I don’t think that.”

“You’re a giant shithead, Steve Rogers,” Bucky told him, pulling away and moving back to the water. Steve couldn’t help following him and wrapping his arms around Bucky from behind. Now that he knew it wasn’t true, he couldn’t stop touching Bucky. He was so relieved.

“And you have no goddamn right to be jealous,” Bucky went on.

Steve thought back through the really confusing conversation they’d just had, trying to follow what Bucky was referring to. He’d talked about something being hard for him. Accused Steve of playing mind games. Did that mean...Bucky was the one who was jealous? How weird would that be? “Why not?” he asked softly, nuzzling Bucky’s hair.

“I’m not kidding, Steve,” Bucky said, turning and shoving him away with his good arm. “You can’t do this to me.”

“Do...what?” Steve was lost.

Bucky was breathing hard, struggling to keep himself together. “You can’t be with her and me both. It doesn’t work that way.” He turned away, getting emotional. “I’m your friend, Steve, and I always will be. I want you to be happy, I swear I do. But this is killing me. To have to see you with her every day. It’s the worst.”

“See me with...Peggy?” Steve guessed.

Bucky gave him a sarcastic look. “No, Steve. It’s seeing you with Chester Phillips. The two of you are so hot together.”

Steve made a face. “Jesus Christ.”

Bucky laughed a little, but it wasn’t a happy sound.

“Buck.” Steve held out his arms to Bucky. “C’mere.”

“No way, Steve.”

Steve sighed. “You’re a stubborn jerk, you know that?” He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. “Me and Peggy...we’re not together, Buck.”

“Yeah, right,” Bucky snorted. “Pull the other one, Steve.”

“I’m not saying I haven’t thought of it.” Bucky made another incredulous sound, and Steve added, “A lot. But she’s basically my boss,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you can’t date your CO.”

“So you’re just waiting till after the war,” Bucky guessed.

Steve shrugged. “After the war, if she’s game...hell yes.”

Bucky turned away.

“But that could be years from now, Buck. And it’s a big if.” For one thing, there was the whole fondue issue to sort out.

“No it’s not, Steve.” Steve wanted to feel happy that Bucky was predicting him and Peggy actually happening. But he couldn’t. Because Bucky was unhappy.

“Buck.” Steve moved close behind Bucky to slide his arms around him again. Bucky didn’t push him away this time. “It’s you and me now. Even if our time has an expiration date...don’t you think it’s worth spending it together?” Bucky didn’t say anything. “It’s not like you aren’t gonna go back home to Brooklyn and marry Connie or one of Katie’s other friends who’d die to spend the rest of her life with you.”

*

The ironic part was that Steve actually believed that. After all the time they’d spent together and how close they were. “Sure, Steve,” Bucky said, keeping the sarcasm to a minimum. “That’s what I’m gonna do, move on as soon as you’re out of my life for good.”

“That’ll never happen,” Steve said.

“Famous last words, Steve.” Bucky really wanted to believe it. He did. But he vividly remembered the way Steve had looked at Peggy yesterday.

*

Steve had had enough. He turned Bucky around and kissed him again, holding him tight so that Bucky couldn’t pull away this time. “We promised each other.” He mouthed the words against Bucky’s lips. “I’m not gonna break my promise. Are you?”

“Hell no,” Bucky said, leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder in defeat.

“Then that’s settled,” Steve said, rubbing Bucky’s back.

And then, he couldn’t resist asking one more time, because he just had to be sure, “There’s really nothing going on between you and Falsworth?” He’d been so sure…

“No,” Bucky answered, not angry this time. “He’s way too good for me. I’d just break his heart.”

Well that hadn’t been the reassuring confirmation Steve had been looking for at all. Now he was sorry he’d asked. He determined not to pursue the subject further. If he didn’t ask any more, Steve could pretend Bucky had been joking. He’d been joking, right?

“You can break my heart, Buck,” he murmured, his arms wrapping more tightly around Bucky. _Mine._ “Anytime.”

Bucky’s good arm snaked around Steve’s shoulder. “I could never break your heart, Steve,” he whispered.

They just stood that way for a while, and then Steve began to sway. “Steve,” Bucky said. “Are you dancing with me?”

Steve didn’t answer, but he did begin to softly hum “Moonlight Serenade”.

Bucky closed his eyes, pretending they were back home in Brooklyn. If only it were possible to turn back time. Those were simpler days. No war. No Peggy. Though back then, Bucky couldn’t have rested his cheek on Steve’s shoulder like he was doing now without bending down. Bucky had to admit, there were certain advantages to Steve’s new body.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” he said, giving Steve’s shoulder a little squeeze.

Steve stopped humming for a moment. “Huh? For what, Buck?”

“I missed your old body so much...I didn’t think.” And it was so obvious now. “This one’s never gonna get sick, is it?”

“I think that’s kind of the point,” Steve said, after a moment.

“Wow,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “After all the times you told me you were gonna die first.”

“I shouldn’t’a scared you like that, Bucky. I’m sorry.”

Bucky just closed his eyes and held Steve tight. His best friend was going to live to be an old man. With Peggy. Bucky wasn’t really sure when he’d started to cry. Though they were silent tears, Steve felt his chest heaving and drew back to look at him.

“Bucky?” He wiped the tears from Bucky’s cheek with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not fair, Steve.”

“What’s not fair?” Steve kissed his forehead.

But Bucky couldn’t explain. What good would it do? Even if Steve loved Bucky the same way Bucky loved him, guys couldn’t marry guys.

“Just. Promise me we’ll be together, just you and me. For now. For as long as we can be.”

“I promise, Bucky,” Steve said, solemnly. “For as long as we can be.”

Bucky took Steve’s hand, twining their fingers together. “I’m tired, Steve,” he said. Now that the tears had stopped, the fatigue was hitting him like a brick wall.   

“You wanna go back?” Steve asked after a moment.

“Let’s just stay here for a little while longer,” Bucky said. “I like having you to myself.” That was an understatement. “Come sit with me.” He led Steve over to a fallen tree, climbing up to take a seat overlooking the water.

“It sure is pretty,” Steve said, sitting down next to Bucky on his right side and taking his hand.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I can see it now.”

Steve leaned over and kissed him.

“Behave yourself, Steve,” Bucky warned.

“What?” Steve said. “You told me I could kiss you any time.”

“I guess I did,” Bucky said. Steve slid an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Bucky sighed. “You feel so good, Steve. So warm.” The crisp autumn air couldn’t bite him when he was next to Steve. Bucky snuggled against him.

“Now who’s misbehaving?” Steve teased.

“You just have a dirty mind,” Bucky told him. “I said you feel good, not ‘nn, yeah, baby, that feels good!’”

*

Steve was immediately aroused by Bucky’s put-on sex voice. Even though he knew it was put-on. “Buck,” he growled. “Careful.”

Bucky laughed. “You’re too easy, Steve.” For Bucky, Steve thought, he always would be.

Steve thought for a moment. “I wish you’d call me ‘baby’ sometime.”

“Alright, you big baby.” Bucky snorted a laugh.

Steve stuck a finger between his ribs, threatening a tickle. “That’s not what I meant, smartass.”

“No, don’t!” Bucky flailed. “No fair tickling!” He’d always been ridiculously ticklish. So much so, Bucky had made Steve promise to never ever tickle him again. When he’d been twelve.

“Then quit teasing me,” Steve leaned over Bucky, fingers poised, threatening.

“All right, baby,” Bucky said, smiling seductively, wrapping his good arm around Steve’s neck. It felt good. Steve wanted more.

“Again,” Steve said.

“Kiss me, baby,” Bucky whispered, teasing his lips.

Steve delivered a hard, biting kiss which left Bucky’s lips bruised and red. Bucky licked his lower lip, giving Steve ‘that look.’ Steve thought he knew what would come next. His heart beat faster as he watched Bucky hungrily, waiting to find out.

“You wanna fool around, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” Steve breathed, having thought Bucky would never ask. He pulled Bucky’s shirt out from beneath his belt and stuck a hand up to cop a feel.

“Is your cock hard for me, baby?” Bucky asked, moving against him. He opened Steve’s belt and reached for his fly.

“See for yourself,” Steve said, groaning when Bucky’s fingers closed around him.

*

If Bucky was 100% honest with himself, Steve’s bigger dick wasn’t exactly a drawback to Steve’s new body either. He slid his thumb over the moist head, stroking the dimple just under his foreskin. Bucky kissed Steve while he played with him, feeling Steve’s moans vibrate against his lips and down his throat.

Bucky was getting far more aroused than he would have thought possible. Part of it could have been the roving Steve’s hands were doing. The way he touched Bucky, as if he were a precious thing. Steve’s hands were gentle but relentless. When they slid down to cup Bucky’s ass, he gasped.

“I kind of want you in me,” Bucky said, looking up at Steve, short of breath.

*

“Ohhh God, Buck! I want that, too.” It had been so long since he’d had Bucky. Actually _had_ him.  

But something was wrong. Bucky looked uncertain, maybe a little scared. “I’m not sure I can, Steve. I want to, but--”

Steve kissed him quiet. “We don’t have to, Buck.” After a day spent talking about how he’d been violated by Schmidt, Steve couldn’t blame Bucky for not being up to it. Honestly, it was a compliment he’d even considered it. Steve figured he must have been doing something right.

“But I kind of want to,” Bucky repeated. “Did you bring anything…?”

Steve pulled out an unnecessarily large tin of lubricant. Bucky blinked. “You had high hopes for this bike ride, huh?”

Steve’s neck started to turn red. “I been carryin’ it around since we got back to camp.”

“Slutty boy,” Bucky accused.

“Mmhmm,” Steve agreed, kissing him.

“Why don’t you start slow?” Bucky said. “I’ll tell you if you need to stop.”

“Buck…” Steve didn’t want to get his hopes up. “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded, shucking his pants and leaning forward over the tree. Steve wrapped one arm around his waist, his other hand stroking up and down the back of Bucky’s thighs, teasing. Steve pressed his lips to the top of Bucky’s spine, slicking just one finger to start, and moving in gradually with slow circles.

Steve didn’t get very far before he stopped on his own. When he looked, Bucky wasn’t even trying to hide the pain on his face. “I’m not doin’ this, Buck.”

Bucky looked at him for a moment before responding, as if returning from a mental distance. “I’ll be okay, Steve,” he said.

“No, Buck. You’re hurt. Don’t try to say you’re not, I can fucking **feel** it.”

Bucky sighed, resting his head on his good arm. “Just...don’t pull out?” he asked.

Steve didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t Bucky want him to stop if it hurt? He must have been watching the confused look on Steve’s face, because he said, “I want you, Steve. I want my body to remember **you** , not them.”

 _Them?_ Steve was horrified all over again. There had been more than just Schmidt?

“Turn around,” he said, Steve’s voice hoarse now for reasons other than lust. He helped Bucky reposition, because this was awkward enough without only having one arm to work with. He took off his leather jacket, laid it over the bark to protect Bucky’s skin.

First, Steve just leaned him back against the trunk of the tree, kissing Bucky slow and deep. It was a kiss that said ‘I’m here now, and I’ll protect you.’

“You sure about this?” he asked Bucky again. Bucky nodded. “I think we’re gonna have to lose this,” Steve said, touching the strap of Bucky’s arm sling. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.” Bucky leaned forward to kiss Steve, impatient. Steve took the opportunity to unfasten the sling, tossing it aside and making a mental note of where it fell. Then he grabbed Bucky’s right leg, sliding up underneath so Bucky’s knee was pressing into his chest.

“Oh, Steve!” Bucky breathed, wrapping his left leg around Steve’s waist as he’d done many times before. Steve leaned down to kiss him, hard, grinding against Bucky’s ass with his shaft tucked down out of the way.

“Oh, Buck!” he panted, wishing that he actually could go through with it this time. But there would be another time, Steve told himself. A time when he wouldn’t be hurting Bucky.

“Fuck me, baby,” Bucky whined, arching his back.

Steve kissed his jaw. “You want me to finger-fuck you?” It was a rhetorical question. Bucky shifted his hips to show the answer was definitely yes. Steve growled, plundering Bucky’s mouth as he carefully eased back in.

It was torture, but not for Bucky. Steve made sure to go slowly and gently, being as careful as Bucky would let him. Both of Steve’s hands kept busy. From the noises Steve elicited and how demanding Bucky got at the end, Steve wasn’t worried that he’d hurt him.

Afterwards, they lay together in the fallen leaves, panting and sweaty. “They’re gonna wonder...where we went,” Bucky said.

“Fuck ‘em,” Steve said.

“You wish,” Bucky said. “Your boss is not gonna be happy with you.”

“She can wait her turn,” Steve said, kissing Bucky again and stroking his thighs.

“How in the fuck are you already hard again?” Bucky asked.

“It ain’t my fault,” Steve said. “I got this sexy jerk pressed up against me.”

With a mischievous look, Bucky spidered down Steve’s body to pay his respects. “That’s...not gonna get us back to camp any faster,” Steve warned.

Bucky’s response was to flip Steve the bird. Steve laughed, and then made a lot of other guttural noises as Bucky did what Bucky did best.

Afterwards, he moved back up to snuggle with Steve. “You’re so good at that,” Steve panted.

“I know.”

Steve kissed him, tasting himself on Bucky’s tongue. “You gonna suck my dick whenever it gets hard now?” he asked, flirting.

“Hell no,” Bucky told him. “I have a life, Steve. The way you are now, I’d be sucking you off every three minutes.” He pinched Steve’s ass playfully.

“Sooner if you keep doing that,” Steve warned.

“Come on.” Bucky stood up, offering Steve a hand up. Steve knelt at Bucky’s feet and dragged his tongue up Bucky’s thigh. “Quit it.”

“But you taste good.”

“Steve.”

“Salty.”

“Pull your pants back up.”

“Fine.” Steve only sulked a little, watching Bucky slip back into his own trousers.

“Your fly’s open,” Bucky said. Steve grinned. “Steve.”

“Okay, fine.” He buttoned up. “I’m just saying, if you ever want to while we’re on the bike…”

“You’re a kinky little punk,” Bucky said, giving Steve a smack on the ass as he started to straddle the bike.

Steve paused. “You can do that again, too.”

“Steve.”

“I just mean next time.”

“All right,” Buck said, climbing on behind him. “Next time, I’ll spank you till your ass turns pink.”

“Don’t make me wreck the bike, Buck.”

Bucky laughed. It was as light-hearted as Steve had heard him sound since Steve had shown him the Captain America costume.

Steve loved the feeling of Bucky pressed against him on the back of the bike, his arm wrapped around Steve’s chest. It made him want to just keep going. What if they could ride through Europe together on the motorcycle, just stopping to fuck every few miles? It was a great pipe dream.

Steve reached one hand up to rub Bucky’s where it rested on his chest. He wished this could last forever. Steve took his time driving back to camp. With Bucky on the bike behind him, there was no rush.


	16. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky have dinner with the Jim Gang. They learn some new things about their friends.  
> Jealous Steve returns with a vengeance.  
> After dinner, he has to prove to Bucky that he belongs to Steve. Sexually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't believe in pretending that racist bullshit in history never happened. Sorry, Marvel. 
> 
> This chapter is Explicit and features:
> 
> Steve (POV)  
> Bucky  
> Morita  
> Falsworth

It was dark by the time they got back to camp. No one had missed them from what Steve could tell. If Bucky weren’t still holding on to him, Steve might have thought he’d fallen asleep. His body was totally relaxed (sex could do that), and he hadn’t made a peep all the way back. Not that it was really possible to talk over the roar over the bike’s engine.

Steve parked the bike and helped Bucky climb off-- because being one-handed made things unnecessarily difficult, and having a motorcycle fall over on you was no fun. He really needed to find out what exactly was wrong with Bucky’s arm. Somehow, in all the talking (and fooling around), he’d never gotten around to asking. But Steve figured it could wait a little longer.

“C’mon, Buck,” he told his best friend, carefully sliding an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

“I’m so tired, Steve,” Bucky said, and he looked it. Steve had no doubt he was telling the truth. Had he even slept last night? How weird would it be if Bucky had been awake all night in the tent while Steve had fallen asleep right outside?

“Food first,” Steve insisted. “When was the last time you ate, Buck?” Bucky had to think about it, which is how Steve knew he was right.

“Well, I did eat breakfast this morning,” he began, “but I threw up, like. Three times before I met with the colonel.”

“Bucky.” Steve immediately shifted into overprotective mother hen mode. It was all his fault. If only he’d been able to convince the colonel.

Bucky ruined the moment somewhat by shoving his good hand in Steve’s face. “Don’t lookit me like that, Stevie. I’m okay.”

“Bullshit.” Steve grabbed his hand and held onto it. No wonder Bucky looked so run-down. “You’re gonna eat somethin’ before you go rest, and that’s final.”

Bucky pulled his hand back, but he didn’t look angry. “You givin’ me orders now, Steve?” It looked like he might even be hiding a smile.

“Fuck yes.” Steve drew himself up to his full height. “I’m a Captain, you know.”

“Captain of chorus girls.” Bucky giggled.

“Buck,” Steve said, looking as serious as possible. “Don’t make me tickle you, pal.”

“Don’t!” Bucky sounded about 10 years younger all of a sudden, and Steve couldn’t help but smile.

“All right. I won’t if you come eat.”

Bucky sighed dramatically. “Okay.” But Steve knew it was just for show. He grabbed Bucky’s hand again and towed him over to the mess tent.

“Sure you shouldn’t be eating with the officers or something?” Bucky asked.

“Nope.” Steve’s response was immediate. Sure, it was possible he could have had dinner with Colonel Phillips and Peggy again, but he’d just made a serious promise to Bucky. Peggy could wait...if she was even interested, which Steve still wasn’t 100% sure about.

Bucky must have known it was a possibility for Steve to eat with them instead, because he squeezed Steve’s hand.

Steve was just sorry he had to let go when they entered the mess tent. Being best pals was one thing. Best pals who held hands in front of other guys was something different. In spite of Bucky’s worries, Steve did understand that. “I’ll go grab us trays,” Steve glanced over his shoulder to tell Bucky. “Why don’t you go find us seats?”

Bucky nodded, moving off. Steve wasn’t sure what that look had been on his best friend’s face just now. He told himself not to be paranoid; Bucky was just tired.

When Steve found Bucky a few minutes later, he was seated at a table with Morita and--of course--Falsworth. He was smiling and eating an apple as Morita told some animated story. Steve’s eyes glanced from one tray to the other on the table, trying to discern who’d given Bucky the apple. He wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did. The tray in front of Morita was mostly clean. Falsworth’s was only half-eaten, but neither man had a piece of fruit on his tray.

As Steve stood there, trying to work out if he should be jealous or not, Falsworth looked up and noticed him. It had taken him a minute, because the guy’s eyes had been glued to Bucky like...like… Well, like Olivier had looked at Greer Garson in _Pride and Prejudice_. There was no fucking way that guy was not head-over-heels for Bucky.

_He’s way too good for me…_

It was his tough luck, though, because Bucky wanted to be with Steve. Even if Steve was quietly planning his life after the war with Peggy. Steve looked at Bucky for a moment. If things were different…

“I thought you wanted me to eat something, Steve,” Bucky interrupted Steve’s possessive train of thought. “You gonna keep hogging both those trays, or what?”

Steve recovered with a smile. “Is this a Jims-only meeting, or can a non-Jim join?” he asked, setting the better-looking tray down in front of Bucky.

“Eh, I guess we’ll give you a pass this time, Rogers,” Morita said, moving over so Steve could sit next to Bucky. Steve quickly took his place, because Falsworth was on the other side of Bucky, and he needed to claim his territory.

Falsworth, who up to now had said nothing, but had just been looking at Steve like he was afraid he might get punched, finally offered an uncertain smile and spoke up. “I feel certain we can make an exception just this once.”

Bucky laid his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I feel like Steve is an honorary Jim, though, on account of being my best pal.”

“Nope.” Morita shook his head, starting to pick food off of Falsworth’s tray. “We got a strict Jims-only policy. Besides, it’s not fair your best friend came to the front lines for you. That’s gotta be some kind of foul.”

Bucky glanced over at Steve, and his smile could only be described as radiant. “I guess it is the kind of thing that doesn’t happen to everyone.”

“But wasn’t the real reason Captain Rogers came because he was performing with his traveling review?” Falsworth put in like a wet blanket, earning a glare from Steve. The lieutenant pointed at a poster of Steve in costume with performance dates and times on the far wall of the tent.

“What?” Bucky sprang up with delight and practically ran across the mess to get a closer look at the sign. “OH MY GOD, STEVE!” he shouted, and burst out laughing. Now other soldiers were turning around and staring, some joining in Bucky’s laughter, some just smiling over at Steve.

By the time he’d made it to Bucky’s side, his friend had torn down the poster and was carefully rolling it up for safe-keeping. “This is MINE now,” he told Steve with a wide grin. “You will _never_ live this down, Steve Rogers.” He glanced playfully back at Steve. “I mean Captain America.”

“Buck…”

“If I find another one, I’m sending it home to Mom and the girls.” He chuckled. “I bet Patti would hang the damn thing on the wall.”

“She did,” Steve told him, feeling somewhat sheepish.

Bucky looked up at him, surprised. “You gave her a poster?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, she asked for it, and...I was able to get one for her.” And that had been before the flyers had been a dime a dozen. He’d also gotten Patti lobby cards for each of his movies. But Bucky didn’t know about those, thank God.

Bucky put the poster in his left hand and squeezed Steve’s arm with his right. “You were always such a good big brother to her.”

“Aw, she’s a good kid,” Steve deflected, feeling awkward. Patti was Bucky’s sister after all, not his. Though it was true sometimes his sisters felt like Steve’s sisters.

“We’d better get back,” Bucky pointed toward the table they’d vacated, where Morita was eyeing both abandoned trays of food. “I swear that bastard’s got a hollow leg.”

Steve just barely resisted the instinct to put his arm around Bucky as they walked back to the table. He did give Falsworth a semi-scary look, though, behind Bucky’s back, just to see what the guy would do. To Steve’s satisfaction, he looked away, though Falsworth kept his seat on the other side of Bucky. Even when Steve “accidentally” spilled his coffee on the guy later.

“Oh, good one, Steve.” Bucky rushed to catch the lukewarm liquid with napkins, but some had already leaked across the table into the Englishman’s lap. Falsworth stood hurriedly, brushing coffee off his pants before it could soak in. Bucky reached up with napkins to help with that, too.

Steve realized he should have thought this through.

“Excuse old butterfingers here,” Bucky apologized for him. “Sometimes he forgets how hands work.”

“It’s quite all right,” Falsworth assured Bucky, though the look he cast Steve over Bucky’s head showed he knew Steve had done it on purpose. “My new valet should arrive soon. I’m certain he’ll be able to remove any stain.”

“What’s a valet?” Steve was so glad Morita asked before he could. He stayed where he was, doing his best to look innocent as Bucky used up the last of their napkins to mop up the spill.

“Ah, hmm...” Falsworth considered how to explain it. “Have you ever heard of a gentleman’s gentleman?”

Morita looked blank. “What, you mean like a guy who fucks other guys?”

Falsworth shut his eyes as though his face couldn’t brook the stupidity of such a suggestion. But now all three of his companions were hanging on every word. “No,” Falsworth said, in eternally patient, genteel tones. “A valet is a...well, a servant, rather, who helps a gentleman dress and maintain his wardrobe, among other things.”

“So, like a butler,” Morita said.

“No.” Falsworth looked at his friend with pity. “A butler is in charge of--nevermind.” He glanced around at his three companions. “I imagine household servants’ roles are foreign concepts to all of you.”

“Please. Go on,” Steve said with a stiff smile. “Explain to us how the other half lives.” Steve could understand why people back in the old country set fire to the mansions of stick-up-their-ass rich English guys like this who could request a personal dresser in the middle of a fucking war where people were dying all around them.

His offensive tone was not lost on Falsworth, who looked hurt and glanced first to Bucky, to see if he, too, was put off by Falsworth’s economic class.

Bucky elbowed Steve hard in the ribs. “Don’t mind Steve, Monty,” Bucky smiled conciliatorily. “He doesn’t get that people don’t ask to be born lords and ladies just like we didn’t ask to be born dirt poor in New York City.”

“I’m...please accept my apologies,” Falsworth looked stricken. “I hadn’t realized...”

“My family owned a landscaping service,” Morita said, leaning his chin on his fist, one elbow resting on the table. “Before Uncle Sam came and took us all away to a fucking internment camp, like cattle.” He smiled. “So if you _gaijin_ really want to fight about who’s hoity-toity and who’s not, go for it. Just know you don’t have it as bad as you fucking think you do.”

“What?!” And now it was Steve’s turn to be shocked. He looked to Bucky, the only person he trusted to confirm news that challenged his core beliefs before he could accept it as fact.

Bucky was staring down at the table, his hands--good and bad--gripping the edge hard. “Yeah.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Schmidt liked to watch the news reels from the U.S. He thought that shit was hilarious.”

Morita pounded his fist on the table. “That motherfucker!”

Falsworth reached to place a hand on Morita’s shoulder before his violent outburst could escalate. “Hiro--”

“Jim.” Bucky couldn’t reach Morita from where he was sitting, but his eyes could. He hit Morita with the calming big brother look Steve knew so well. “I’m sorry. We’ll get him. _All_ of them.” His eyes held Morita’s. “I promise.”

As Steve watched, helpless and confused still by this accusation against his beloved country that couldn’t possibly be true, Morita looked like he was tearing up. “Damn right we will!” he said, looking away. “Listen, I’ll catch you guys later.” Falsworth let go of him, and he was gone in a moment.

“Did that really happen?” Steve looked at Bucky, still needing an answer.

Bucky turned to him. “Steve, you didn’t see that newsreel? You used to watch ALL the newsreels. Sometimes you’d go to the pictures JUST for the newsreels.”

Steve thought hard. “Well, there was this one about them rounding up Japanese spies and stuff. In California, right?” He looked to Bucky for confirmation.

Falsworth cut in gently. “If I may...er. The news was reported somewhat differently in Britain…”

“You saying the U.S. government lies?” Steve bristled.

“Of course it does!” Bucky defused the situation before it could start. “Steve.” He gripped Steve’s arm. “You don’t honestly think they tell the American people the truth all the time? How could they? Do you think people could handle half the shit you’ve seen since you been here?”

Steve thought about it. Because it was Bucky, and he couldn’t get indignantly patriotic with Bucky as easily as he could with Falsworth. “But why, Buck? Why would they take people outta their homes and put them in...camps and stuff? Just normal people, like Morita’s family?”

Bucky shrugged. “Why do governments do half the shit they do? It’s war, Steve. People are scared. People overreact. People can treat foreigners pretty fucked up. Don’t you remember any of those stories my dad used to tell about New York before 1900?”

Steve shook his head, still refusing to believe his own government could do something like that to civilians, even foreign-born ones. “Your dad was always drunk, Buck.”

“But his stories weren’t made up,” Bucky argued.

“No,” Steve said. “I know. I just--”

Bucky left Steve to battle his denial and inability to accept the innate unfairness of the universe. “Monty,” he turned to Falsworth. “Can you go check on him later?”

“Of course,” Falsworth replied stiffly. “I feel responsible for the conversation which led to…”

“I’ll check in with him tomorrow,” Bucky explained, cutting in because Falsworth didn’t need to feel any worse than Steve had already made him feel. “Only I’m so damn tired right now.”

“You didn’t sleep?” Falsworth asked gently, his eyes full of concern.

“For starters,” Bucky said. And from the look on his face, Steve could tell Falsworth guessed the rest of what Bucky had been through today, too.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

Wait, did Falsworth just call Bucky ‘Bucky?’ His Bucky? No one else was supposed to call Bucky ‘Bucky’ except Steve. Well, no one in Europe, anyway. Steve quickly reached under the table and squeezed Bucky’s good hand. _He’s my Bucky. Mine._

Meanwhile, Bucky was offering Falsworth a sweet, tired smile. “Thanks, Monty. I just need a good night’s rest.” Under the table, Bucky squeezed back, and Steve’s possessiveness eased a tiny bit.

Now it was Falsworth’s turn to glance back and forth between them. “Ah, um...should I expect you then…?”

“Bucky’s sleepin’ with ME tonight,” Steve blurted out, before Bucky could answer differently. From Bucky’s angry glare, Steve could tell he’d messed up. “I mean--um--” Steve hurried to correct any unintentional innuendo. “I got room in my tent, so. You know, thanks, though,” he finished, feeling more sarcastically vicious than he sounded.

Bucky took a deep breath, pulling his hand out of Steve’s grip under the table. “What Steve _means_ to say is…” And Steve watched Falsworth hang on Bucky’s every word, looking crestfallen if ever a guy’s crest had fallen. “You have been...so great, and so kind, and so...generous.”

Steve wanted to lean forward and examine the way Bucky was looking at Falsworth for hidden messages, because he felt like there were some. But he didn’t. He could tell Bucky was getting close to wanting to punch him as it was.

“But...at least for tonight, I’ve got some stuff to catch up on with Steve.”

Falsworth shut down. He was staring at his half-empty tray of food like Bucky had just told him his dog was dead. “Of course,” he said. “I understand.” And then he looked up at Bucky, all hopeful again. “But should you ever require in the future…”

“I’ll let you know,” Bucky smiled, and Steve hated him for a split-second for that smile. He was stringing Falsworth along, and Bucky knew he was. Steve had watched Bucky do the same to numerous girls over the years. It was weird seeing him do it to a guy now. Steve was allowed to be jealous this time, because it WAS a guy. And was he ever jealous.

Falsworth nodded, looking a little less sad. Because of that fucking smile. “Well then. I should likely...go see if I can locate our friend…”

Bucky nodded. “Thanks, Monty.”

“Of course.” The lieutenant nodded politely to Steve as he got up from the table.

Steve waited for him to leave before he leaned over to Bucky. “I am gonna fuck you so hard,” he growled in Bucky’s ear.

Bucky turned to Steve, surprised. “What? Steve, where did that come from?”

“You better fucking get ready,” Steve whispered, sex-threateningly, ignoring Bucky’s question.

Bucky looked a little overwhelmed. “Okay, but. Can I sleep during? Because I’m seriously tired, Steve. I’m not kidding.”

That took some of the wind out of Steve’s sails. “Tomorrow,” he amended. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you.”

“Sure, Steve.” Bucky sighed with relief, looking worn out. “That sounds great.”

Somehow, that hadn’t exactly been the effect Steve had been aiming for. “I’m gonna take you back by the lake.” Steve thought maybe getting descriptive would put him back on track. He took Bucky’s hand under the table, gently stroking his fingers. “And then I’m gonna--”

“Can we bring a blanket next time?” Bucky interrupted. “I think I still got leaves in my ass from today.”

Steve closed his eyes. Bucky was determined to derail him. “Sure, Buck.”

“Come on.” Bucky stood up, pulling out of Steve’s grip to tug him gently by the wrist. “I’m fallin’ asleep sitting here. Let’s just go back to the tent.”

Steve glanced at Bucky’s tray in dismay. He hadn’t even eaten--wait. Somewhere in everything that had transpired, Bucky had managed to eat most of the food on his tray.

“You still hungry, Stevie?” he asked, mistaking the look on Steve’s face when he glanced at the table.

“I’ll have them wrap me up a couple sandwiches,” Steve said. “Wait for me?”

“Sure thing, Captain America.” Bucky smiled at him, waving the poster. Steve rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, before going to get the food.

Back in the tent, Bucky immediately slid onto the cot and covered his head with Steve’s pillow. “Ohhhh my God I’m so tired,” he groaned. Bucky had lain down in on his stomach, and Steve couldn’t help but stare at his ass longingly.

“Buck?” Steve wasn’t sure when he’d made the decision to touch Bucky’s ass. It may not even have been conscious.

“Steve,” Bucky whined. “I need sleep!”

“Sorry, Buck.” Steve removed his hand, reluctantly. “Can I curl up with you, though?”

Bucky groaned from under the pillow, already half-asleep from the sound of it.

“Pleeeeeeeeeease, Bucky? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?” This was an old routine from their younger days. Whatever it was Steve wanted, he would just keep begging until Bucky gave in.

“You’re gonna make me sleep on the damn ground?” Bucky asked, removing the pillow to look up at Steve, grumpy.

“You can sleep on me,” Steve offered.

Bucky shook his head. “Why do I feel like that won’t end well?”

“I’ll be good,” Steve lied.

“Steve, you’re lying.” Bucky knew him too well. He sighed. “What do I gotta do to get you to leave me alone so’s I can sleep?”

“Just. Come down here with me? I’ll lay some blankets down.”

“And what else?” Bucky knew that wasn’t all of it.

“Let me return the favor for earlier?” Steve’s toes curled impatiently inside his shoes. He hadn’t had Bucky in his mouth all day.

Bucky laughed, weakly, amused in spite of his fatigue. “You wanna suck my cock so bad, you won’t let me sleep?”

Steve bit his lip. “Just a little bit.”

Bucky shook his head. “You are such a horndog, Steve Rogers.” But he slid out of the bed and waited while Steve arranged and impromptu bed on the floor large enough for both of them. Before Bucky could climb in, Steve took him in his arms and lay Bucky down on the blankets.

“Oh, Bucky,” he sighed, kissing his way down Bucky’s neck to his chest. Steve lifted up his shirt and began to lick him from navel to sternum, lavishing extra attention on his nipples.

“Steve,” Bucky protested. “You said my cock, not my whole body.”

“Don’t rush me,” Steve said, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist and tonguing his navel.

“Oh...Steve.” Bucky began to object less when Steve cupped his ass.

Then Steve did something he probably shouldn’t have. But it had been so long since he’d last done it… “Steve Rogers, did you just bite the fucking buttons off my pants?” 

The last one fell from Steve’s guilty lips onto Bucky’s abdomen. “I’ll get you a new pair tomorrow?”

“You bet you fucking will.” Bucky was looking down at him, angrily. “My mom ain’t here to sew up all the shit you chew through, pal.”

Steve smiled up at him, the first two buttons still clamped in his teeth. Bucky pinched his cheek. Hard. “You fucking punk.”

But Steve was done being cute. He gripped Bucky’s trousers by the waistband and tugged them down. Bucky really was tired, but Steve wasn’t deterred. He started with Bucky’s thighs--pretty much where he’d left off this afternoon--and nibbled his way up to more sensitive parts.

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, rolling over so Steve had a better angle for what he was doing. Steve’s hands massaged Bucky’s ass as he went to town. If he could finger-fuck him, Steve figured tongue-fucking was equally fair game.

He knew Bucky was awake now, because apart from moving his hips a little, Bucky was starting to mewl and cry with the pleasure Steve was giving him. Bucky quickly grabbed the pillow and put it over his mouth. _Oh yeah_ , Steve thought vaguely. There were other people here who might hear them. But that didn’t deter him either.  

Steve moved around in front of Bucky and lay down to slide back between Bucky’s thighs. It was a better angle for teabagging, which is exactly what Steve did, slowly beginning to stroke Bucky’s cock at the same time.

Only because he’d heard the two words many times in just that tone did Steve know Bucky had just cried, “Oh, Steve!” into the pillow.

He continued to take his time, sucking and licking and stroking Bucky until Steve felt trembling fingers reach for his own fly. “Buck, you don’t have to,” he told the back of Bucky’s thigh.

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky hissed, pushing his shorts down and leaning forward to draw his tongue up the length of Steve’s erection, eliciting a moan from Steve. “Shush!”

“It’s hard, Buck,” Steve complained.

“Yes it is,” Bucky observed, slowly drawing Steve into his mouth.

“Hooooo God,” Steve moaned, hiding his face between Bucky’s legs before he could get scolded for making noise again.

At some point, Steve’s fingers ended up in Bucky’s ass again--maybe because Bucky was returning the favor. He cradled Bucky’s sack in his other hand, bobbing enthusiastically, Steve’s dick throbbing with his pulse as Bucky worked it.

He was proud of himself that Bucky came first, but it wasn’t by much. Steve bit Bucky’s thigh and gripped his ass hard when he came, feeling Bucky drinking him down as the stars exploded behind his eyes. “Oh my God, Buck,” Steve panted.

Bucky rolled off and turned around, sliding up next to Steve, short of breath himself. “NOW can I sleep?” he asked.

“Fuck you.” Steve turned to wrap his arms around Bucky. “The only reason you’re safe tonight is because I can’t make you scream with Colonel Phillips only two tents away.”

“Well, you COULD,” Bucky teased.

Steve bit his neck as payback, and Bucky pulled his hair until Steve let go. “Sleep, Steve. I’m serious.”

Steve looked up at him. He looked sort of serious. Mostly he just looked freshly-fucked, and Steve felt pretty proud of that.

“Okay,” he agreed finally. “But I may hold your ass in your sleep.”

“That’s fine,” Bucky agreed, snuggling in next to him. “As long as it’s JUST holding.”

“All right,” Steve reluctantly agreed. He moved up, and Bucky gave him the pillow, choosing Steve’s shoulder for his own pillow.

Steve kissed the top of Bucky’s head. “Good night, you sexy jerk.”

“Hey,” Bucky said, surprising Steve, who expected him to be drifting off already.

“Yeah, Buck?” He stroked a hand down the curve of Bucky’s spine.

“Don’t be an asshole to Falsworth anymore. He’s not a bad guy.”

That shot Steve’s good mood to hell. “Why do you care so much--” Steve began, but Bucky silenced him with a finger on Steve’s lips.

“Because he doesn’t deserve it, and you’re better than that, Steve Rogers.”

Steve felt guilty. Bucky was right.

“Besides, Morita is right. There’s so much worse going on in the world right now than who was born rich and who wasn’t.”

“You’re right, Buck,” Steve said. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Bucky said, kissing Steve. “Good night, Stevie.” He settled in for good this time.

“‘night, Buck.”

Steve lay there, thinking, while Bucky fell asleep. Why couldn’t he stop hating that Falsworth guy? Steve couldn’t explain it. But he would try harder. He had to.  

_Not a perfect soldier, but a good man._

Did good men get jealous? Sadly, Dr. Erskine wasn’t around anymore to ask.


	17. Can You Hear Me, God?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve apologizes to Falsworth for being a dick. After a hard day's work, he and Bucky ride back to the lake. Bucky has a confession to make. Steve asks the universe for a favor. Because it owes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins and ends with Steve and Bucky naked together in bed.  
> 'nough said.
> 
> This chapter is rated Explicit and features:
> 
> Steve(POV)  
> Bucky  
> Falsworth  
> Peggy  
> Colonel Phillips  
> Howard Stark  
> Dum Dum

Steve awoke the next morning before reveille. The blankets had been kicked off in the night, and there was a very naked Bucky draped across him. Steve didn’t mind that bit, but he was glad no one had come to his tent to get him. They really did need to be more careful. All the same, Steve would be damned if he let Bucky sleep anywhere else but in his tent.

His attempt to carefully extricate himself ended up waking Bucky. Good thing it took his friend a good thirty minutes to fully wake up. “Steve,” Bucky groaned. “Stop moving.”

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve told him softly. “I gotta take a leak, and I’m gonna grab a shower while I’m up.”

“Noooooooooooo,” Bucky protested.

“Just go back to sleep,” Steve told him, grabbing his watch. “You got maybe another hour if you’re lucky.”

“No,” Bucky whined, searching blindly for the pillow Steve had left behind. “Steve.”

It was impossible for Steve to resist when Bucky whined for him like that. Not completely. He lay down on the floor head to head with Bucky and tugged him in for a kiss.

“Steve!” Bucky did not like to be woken up. Even with a kiss.

“Ugh, Buck, go brush your teeth,” Steve complained. “Talk about morning breath.” It was the smoking, Steve decided. He was going to have to cure Bucky of that.

Bucky flipped him off and collapsed face-down into the pillow. Steve smiled and rose to leave again. “I covered you up so your naked ass ain’t hangin’ out in case someone comes lookin’ for either of us.

Bucky didn’t reply verbally, he just wiggled his ass until the blankets came off. “Ohhh, you better fuckin’ not,” Steve warned him. Bucky laughed into the pillow, quickly reaching back to tug the blankets back over his lower half.

Steve paused at the exit, seriously considering. _No,_ he told himself. _Nope_. Both the timing and the noise level would NOT be appropriate. But he had to stride back and kneel down to give Bucky’s ass a quick love-bite anyway. And then he was gone.

It was still dark, and this early, the showers were empty. Steve took the opportunity to blow off some steam, though his shower was cold. His new body didn’t seem deterred by the temperature, but hopefully jerking off would help him not jump Bucky until they were alone together again this evening. Steve thought about last night, and how sweet Bucky’s voice had sounded against that pillow. Steve could still taste him if he used his imagination.

He was shaved, dressed, and ready to go by the time reveille sounded. Steve made sure to face the flag, but he couldn’t help glancing around to see if Bucky had made it out of bed or not. He finally spied his friend only half-dressed, standing back toward his tent. _At least he got pants on_ , Steve thought. One look at that ass and Falsworth might not be the only guy Steve had to fight off. Steve smiled a little, thinking how he’d left Bucky earlier.

“Good Morning, Captain,” Peggy greeted him. She didn’t have to salute the flag during reveille. “You’re looking rather pleased with yourself.”

And it was a good thing she’d never know why, either, Steve thought. “Agent Carter. Just looking forward to another day of hard work.”

“Well, if it’s hard work you like, perhaps we should set you to digging a new latrine,” she said. The look Peggy had was the same one she’d worn the last two times Steve had asked, ‘Is this a test?’ so he knew that it was.

“Whatever duty I’m assigned, I’ll accept it,” he said, solemnly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Agent Carter told him with a secret smile before getting on her way. Steve loved it. Maybe one day he’d be in on the secret, maybe not. But he was pretty intrigued by the fact there was one. And she hadn’t looked mad this time, so he counted it as a point in his favor.

Everyone else was heading back about their business, so Steve supposed he should, too. He took one last look around for Bucky, but his friend had disappeared. Steve reported back to the command tent to get started with interviews for the day.

Falsworth had beaten him there. They greeted one another with minimal courtesy, and Falsworth handed Steve a folder. “I’ve divided the remaining list so that each of us is assigned half. Whomever finishes first I suggest checks in with the other to see if he can help with any remaining interviews. By my calculation, we should finish our debriefings today.” He paused for a moment, maybe struggling with something. “Does that sound acceptable, Captain?”

“Sure,” Steve told him. “Thanks for doing that work in advance, Lieutenant.”

“It was my pleasure, Captain,” Falsworth said, in a way that sounded like it was the opposite, but not so much the opposite that it came out rude. Falsworth was never rude.

As the lieutenant began to walk away, Steve thought about what Bucky had said last night before falling asleep. “Hold on...Lieutenant--”

Falsworth turned back with one carefully-manicured eyebrow quirked. “Captain?”

Steve took a deep breath. This was gonna be hard, but he could do it. “I want to apologize for the way I acted last night. I was totally out of line, and I’m sorry.”

Falsworth just stared at him for a minute, like he was trying to figure out what Steve was apologizing for.

Steve shook his head. “We’re all in this together. Where we come from, that’s not as important as where we’re going.”

“Well-said.” Falsworth nodded agreement. “Captain Rogers...I hope you know, I consider us all equals. In war...in life. We’re all just men in the end.”

Steve nodded. Why was the guy so goddamn eloquent? Good thing Bucky had never gone for the poetic type. “Yeah,” Steve said, much less eloquently. “Truce?” He extended his hand for a shake.

Only, Falsworth just looked at it for a minute. “How is Sergeant Barnes’ arm?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

That threw Steve, but at least he hadn’t called him Bucky to Steve’s face again. “Ummm, not sure,” Steve admitted. “He’s taken his sling off a couple times, but I can tell it still hurts him.”

Falsworth just stared at him. Not saying anything. Steve wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. So he filled the vacuum with more words.

“Hey, how was Morita last night? You found him, right?”

The way Falsworth raised his eyebrow this time, superior and longsuffering, Steve felt like he’d been dismissed. “As well as can be expected,” he said.

“Hey, do you think--if I asked him, do you think he’d tell me about all that stuff that happened to his family? Do you think that’s too personal?” Steve asked.

Falsworth looked genuinely surprised now. “I should think what actually occurred would be more difficult than speaking of it. Telling his story..might even help, I suppose. He certainly didn’t feel shy telling us what he did yestereve.”

 _Yestereve?_ Steve thought. _Who fucking talks like that?_ “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Maybe. I’m gonna try.”

“If I might ask,” Falsworth said. “Why?”

Steve’s look was sober. “Because I wanna know. Sounds like that newsreel didn’t come close to covering what happened.”

Falsworth nodded, looking as if he approved. “Good luck to you then. Perhaps I’ll see you over lunch?”

Steve thought about this. Another meal with Bucky and Falsworth, when he was trying to be civil to the guy. It didn’t bode well. “We’ll see,” was all he said. Falsworth nodded and went off to start interviews.

At lunch, Steve found Bucky in the mess tent, eating with Dum Dum. He joined them, and mostly just listened to the two men talk. They had a special rapport, having seen combat together multiple times. While Steve soaked it up, he glanced around--maybe a little nervously--for Falsworth. But the lieutenant never showed.

Steve didn’t really want to go back to work after that, but he had to. The best he could get before heading back to the command tent was a friendly shoulder-pat from Bucky, but Steve promised himself--and his eyes promised Bucky before he walked away--that there would be so much more later.  

After interviews were done for the day, he walked in amicable silence with Falsworth to their meeting with Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter. Steve was surprised to find Howard Stark waiting at the now-cracked, antique war council table.

“Mr. Stark will be helping me with weapons debriefing,” Colonel Phillips announced. “Rogers, now that you’re done with the injured, you’re back on my detail, too. Lieutenant, I’m gonna have you assist Agent Carter. We’ll just get through the lists faster if we split them between us.”

“Yes, Sir,” Steve said.

“Of course, Colonel,” Falsworth echoed.

“Since Mr. Stark has joined us, I’ll be hosting a special officers’ dinner for him in my tent this evening,” Phillips added.

“Sounds...delightful,” Falsworth said, in a way Steve could tell was not at all enthusiastic.

“Sorry,” Steve said. “I’ve got a date.”

They all looked at him then.

 _Come on, Rogers,_ he scolded himself. “I mean, with a friend.” Not much better. “It’s a friend-date.” Worse. “I mean, I promised a friend…”

Great, now Colonel Phillips looked suspicious.

“What’s her name?” Stark grinned, earning a black look from Agent Carter.

“No, it’s not---it’s really not!” Steve protested, because now Peggy was leveling that glare at _him_. “I swear!”

“All right, son,” Colonel Phillips put him out of his misery. “You go off and do whatever secret thing you’ve got to do. I’ll just eat your filet for you.”

Filet? Wow, that was way too fancy for Steve. He was just as glad he wouldn’t have to deal with trying to digest rich food and worrying about table manners. “Thanks, Colonel,” Steve said, nonplussed. Phillips didn’t seem to know what to make of that.

After the meeting, Bucky was waiting for him in his tent.

“Ready?” Steve asked, breathless with anticipation (and from having sprinted across camp in his eagerness).

“Sure.” Bucky smiled and stood to go, taking off his arm sling.

“Oh, Buck, do you think that’s a good idea?” Steve asked, feeling bad after his talk with Falsworth this morning.

“It won’t hurt nothin,” Bucky assured him.

“Well….okay.” Steve ran off to get the bike. This time, Bucky jumped on without being asked, wrapping both arms around Steve from behind in a way that was giving him ideas.

“We’re outta here,” Steve said, revving the engine a little as they took off.

“Wait, Steve!” Bucky yelled into his ear. “What about the blanket?” But Steve had remembered the blanket. Two, actually.

“Don’t worry!” he shouted back. Then Bucky relaxed and held him tight from behind, leaning against him, and Steve felt like he could drive forever.

When they got to the lake, Steve finally remembered to ask. “Bucky, what happened to your arm?”

At first, his friend looked hesitant to answer.

“Did I do it?” Steve asked, feeling the tsunami of guilt hovering just out of sight.

Bucky looked up quickly. “No, Steve.” He reached out with his good hand to touch Steve’s elbow reassuringly. “It’s just...when I fell. It kind of jerked my shoulder--” He kept talking so that Steve wouldn’t, seeing that Steve was about to reply with guilt. “--it’s just a strain, Steve. It’ll be fine in a few days.”

“You sure, Buck?” Steve said, frowning.

Bucky kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sure.”

Steve had an idea. “You want me to rub it for you?”

Bucky grinned. “Is that a come-on?”

But Steve was in mother hen mode. “I mean, I’m not really sure what I’m doin’, but I don’t think it’ll make it worse…”

Bucky sighed, realizing Steve was not going to flirt back. “Sure, Steve, if you want.” He sat down on the blanket with his back to Steve.

Steve grabbed the second blanket and dropped it in Bucky’s lap to make sure Bucky wouldn’t get cold. Then Steve knelt behind him. “Just tell me if it hurts,” he said. Steve reached around to unfasten Bucky’s jacket and gently slide it from his shoulders so that his fingers could be closer to the muscles of Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky protested. “I thought you were just gonna rub it.”

“It works better with your clothes off,” Steve whispered teasingly in Bucky’s ear, and Bucky laughed. But he really _didn’t_ mean it that way...for now. And Bucky did still have his shirt on.

Steve set the jacket aside and slid his fingers over the muscles between Bucky’s shoulder and neck. Bucky made a face, but didn’t protest otherwise. Steve started what he hoped was a gentle massage, considering where he knew the muscles were from figure drawing anatomy, and where they might hurt the most from a fall like Bucky had had two nights ago.

It scared Steve to think of it even now. If he hadn’t caught Bucky… Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of Bucky’s neck.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered.

“You okay, Buck?” he asked.

Bucky nodded. “That kind of hurts, but it kind of feels good, too.” His voice sounded relaxed, even a little sleepy, so Steve figured he couldn’t be in that much pain.

“You been takin’ stuff for the pain, Buck?” Steve asked, knowing Bucky’s propensity for ‘sticking it out’ as he used to call it, which meant dealing with the pain rather than risking drowsiness or stomach upset from painkillers.

“Not really,” Bucky admitted, and Steve’s fingers stopped moving.

“Buck. You gotta. They’ll help you relax so you can heal.”

“Shush, Mother Hubbard,” Bucky said. “I’m fine.”

“Nuh-uh.” Steve tugged Bucky back against him, wrapping his arms around his best pal. “You don’t get to do that, Buck. After all the times you forced me to take my medicine and nagged me for goin’ out in the rain without boots, and everythin’ else? You gotta listen to ME now.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “What is your command, o master?”

Steve thought about it for a minute. “Kiss me.”

Bucky smiled, but he did lean his head back so that Steve could kiss him, albeit upside-down. “I thought this was supposed to be about nagging me for my health,” Bucky teased.

“It’s good for you to kiss me,” Steve said, firm.

“It’ll keep me healthy?” Bucky grinned. “What, will your secret serum rub off on me through your lips or something?”

“I can think of another way to give it to you,” Steve said, biting his lip, because it was a pretty dirty way.

All of a sudden, Bucky looked stricken and turned away. For a moment, Steve thought he was going to pull out of his embrace all together, but he seemed to stop himself at the last minute.

“Bucky…” Steve had to know what had just happened.

But Bucky covered his face with his hands, and Steve knew it was bad. “Do you...want me not to touch you?” Steve asked because he had to, not because every fiber of his being wasn’t screaming ‘hold and protect’ right now.

“Steve.” Bucky turned and buried his face in Steve’s chest. It was an odd sensation, because Steve didn’t used to have a chest to speak of. Now he had a full-on manly bosom someone could hide in. But Steve was glad for it at the moment.

Bucky squeezed him tight, and Steve held him close. “I hate Schmidt,” Bucky said, his voice trembling. “I hate him so much.”

Steve rested his cheek against Bucky’s hair. That guy was going to pay for this. At least 100 times, if Steve had anything to say about it. “We’ll get him, Buck,” Steve promised. “Don’t worry.” _I’ll personally rip his guts out with my bare hands._

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky said, after they’d just sat together for a few minutes. “This isn’t why you brought me out here.”

Steve really hoped Bucky didn’t think he needed to apologize for not being a sex kitten right now. “Bucky,” he said. “I brought you here so we could have time alone, not...not just for one thing.”

Bucky rubbed his cheek against Steve’s chest. “I love you, Steve.”

And Steve understood why the metaphor for love was Cupid shooting an arrow into your heart, because right now, he felt like someone had done that to him. It hurt, but it made Steve see colors in the world all around him that he’d never seen before. “Bucky…” There weren’t enough words to express how he felt about Bucky. What words there were fell utterly short. He closed his eyes, trying to find some words that would do. “When I think about you sometimes, it hurts.”

Bucky looked up at him quickly, uncertain how to take that, but Steve kept going.

“I...it’s like my heart gets so full...of feelings...it’s like it just can’t hold ‘em all. There’s so much…” He was trying so hard, and failing so miserably. “I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said. “I must sound so stupid.” Falsworth probably could’ve written a poem about it, and won an international award for how good it was.

“You don’t sound stupid, Steve,” Bucky told him, reaching up to brush his knuckles against Steve’s stubbled cheek. He smiled. “Your beard is so much thicker now than it used to be.”

Steve hadn’t really thought about it. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“You can’t tease me for having the five o’clock shadow from hell anymore,” Bucky said.

“Sure I can,” Steve said, leaning down to rub his cheek against Bucky’s. “Just now, like, we can rub our stubble together to make fire if we’re ever lost in the wilderness.”

Bucky laughed out loud. “You’re such a weirdo, Steve!”

Steve chuckled. “What, you sayin’ you don’t wanna get lost in the wilderness with me sometime?”

Bucky got quiet, then, turning his head to look out at the lake. The sun was setting, and though the west was behind them, the glorious shades of orange and indigo reflected on the water. “Can we go right now?” he asked softly. “Just leave and never come back?”

Steve squeezed him tight. “After the war,” Steve promised. “But first we gotta stop Hydra.”

Bucky sighed against him. “You’re all I want, Steve. The war, everything they tell you is right as a man...I don’t care, sometimes. Sometimes I just want to be selfish.”

Steve stroked his back. He’d never known Bucky to be selfish his whole life. Even the seemingly-selfish things he did--all the girls he dated--were often because the girls wanted it. Steve could not remember a single time Bucky had pursued a woman who wasn’t obviously interested from the beginning. If anything, it was the opposite, where Bucky would give a girl a chance, take her on a date or two, because she was interested, where he might not have given her a second glance otherwise.

And thinking of all the things Bucky had always done for other people, everything he’d given up just for Steve alone, it gave Steve that overwhelmed feeling again. “It hurts, Buck,” was all he could manage to say, recalling his failed attempt to explain his feelings for Bucky a moment ago.

Bucky looked up at him, worried, to see what exactly hurt, and that made Steve’s heart hurt more, because there was Bucky worrying about him again, after everything _he’d_ been through. When he saw that Steve wasn’t in pain, he seemed to make the connection.

Bucky rested a hand on Steve’s cheek, moving his face so close that Steve could feel his lips move when he spoke. “Kiss me, baby,” he whispered, and Steve did, holding Bucky tight against him and leaning him back until they were stretched out together on the blanket.

“You’re not cold, Buck?” Steve asked, wondering if he should have brought more blankets.

“How can I be,” Bucky smiled, “with my furnace here to keep me warm?”

Steve really wanted to warm Bucky up, then. In a grown-up, non-blankets kind of way. He pulled Bucky’s body tight against his and kissed him with a slow burn, beginning to rub his body against Bucky’s as the kiss intensified.

“Steve.” Bucky pulled back with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I can--”

“It’s all right, Buck,” Steve told him, stroking Bucky’s cheek with his thumb. His eyes were so blue, for a moment it seemed to Steve that they reflected the sunset, too. “I just wanna be here with you, and you be here with me.”

“I’m with you, Steve,” he said, and Bucky’s voice was so full of passion in that moment. He kind of looked like he was about to cry.

Steve kissed him again, because he didn’t want Bucky to be sad anymore. “That’s my baby,” he murmured, his eyes closed as Steve just focused on the feel of Bucky in his arms as they lay here together.

“I’m--” Bucky hesitated. “I’m your baby?”

Steve opened his eyes, and Bucky’s cheeks were flushed. From kissing, probably.

“Was...that wrong?” Steve asked. “Should I not have--?” But Steve couldn’t talk anymore on account of Bucky’s mouth smothering him.

“Oh, Steve!” he gasped. And suddenly Bucky’s hands were tearing at Steve’s clothes, trying to get them off in the quickest way possible.

“Buck…” Steve would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t surprised by his friend’s sudden change of heart--or perhaps it was a different organ.

“Get naked, Steve,” Bucky said, urgently. “Right now. I want you right now.” How could Steve say no to that? With his help, the clothes were gone in less than 60 seconds. As Steve pulled off his shorts, Bucky moved against him, running a hand down his chest to the trail of hair that led south from his navel.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve shivered, enjoying Bucky being the demanding one for once. Bucky leaned over to kiss him, slowly nibbling Steve’s lips as he stroked his chest. Steve’s hips started to rock, even though there was nothing to rock against, at the moment.

Bucky disappeared for a long moment, and Steve felt him wriggling at his side on the blanket. He opened his eyes to see what was going on just in time to watch Bucky straddle his hips, bare from the waist down. Steve didn’t say anything, he just reached for Bucky’s erection, sliding his other hand up his friend’s torso, drawing the shirt up with it as he went, watching with a reverent awe as bare skin was revealed, as if he was seeing Bucky’s body for the first time.

“Buck.” He thought for a moment. “You’re not cold?” It had to be about 50 degrees out here. Bucky grabbed the extra blanket and draped it around his shoulders, looking down at Steve like some avenging sex vampire.

“Make me warm, Steve Rogers,” he demanded, and Steve sat up to kiss him some more, tugging Bucky against his chest. He could feel how cool Bucky’s bare skin was compared to his own, and willed his extra body heat to seep into his friend. To speed the process, he started to tease Bucky’s cock, drawing just the tips of his fingers with a feather-light touch from base to tip. Now it was Bucky’s turn to shiver.

“Sssssssssteve…” Steve kissed his name from Bucky’s lips before pushing his tongue between them to plunder Bucky’s mouth. Bucky moaned, rocking his hips so that his cock was closer to Steve’s fingers. The motion had the added bonus of rubbing his plush cheeks across Steve’s pelvis.

Steve couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Bucky,” he panted, gripping Bucky’s ass and pushing it back down toward his own aching need.

“I can’t, Steve.” Bucky opened his eyes, panicking at the last minute.

“I’m not gonna,” Steve promised, taking Bucky’s hand in his. “I just wanna feel your sweet ass against my dick.”

For a minute, Bucky looked like he might laugh. “Steve, you are so fucking romantic.”

Steve smiled. “I really do, though,” he said, gripping Bucky’s backside and spreading him so that Steve could tuck his length into the divide. He felt Bucky’s cock twitch against him, and his friend’s eyes slid shut with a whimper. 

“See?” Steve said. “Trust me, baby.”

Once again, Bucky reacted to the endearment with enthusiasm, arching forward to thrust his tongue into Steve’s mouth. He rocked against Steve, clenching around his shaft.

“Oh God, Buck!” Steve gasped, gripping Bucky’s cock with one hand as he cradled his ass with the other.

“Steve.” Bucky was looking down at him, eyes bright. “Can you...did you bring it?” Steve knew what he was asking for. He reached for his jacket and handed Bucky the tin, groaning as Bucky promptly lubed him from abs to hips.

“Oh, fuck, Bucky!” And then Bucky was reaching back to use the excess on his palm to grip and pull Steve with long strokes that slipped all the way off at the tip. Steve couldn’t even find words. He did make several gutteral noises, though. Loudly.   

Bracing himself on Steve’s chest, Bucky started to move, leaning forward to rub against him as he teased Steve behind.

Steve had lost all words, continuing to grunt and moan, thrusting against Bucky’s grip, and against his ass when Bucky let go. He flexed his muscles to give Bucky more friction, and watched the hungry look in Bucky’s eyes as he ogled Steve’s muscles moving under him.

“Oh, God, Steve!” Bucky cried out. “I lied. I fucking lied!” And his voice had that note that usually meant he was close. “I love your new body. So...fucking...hot!”

And Steve snaked up to kiss him, pleased. Because the bottom line was, this body was his now. He wasn’t giving it back, even if he could.

Bucky whined back in his throat, grinding faster against him, and Steve gripped his ass, biting his lips tauntingly. “What else, Buck?” he prompted. “Tell me what else.”

“Your big cock,” Bucky gasped, his cheeks nearing what one might call rosy. “Oh God, your big, thick cock, I want it in me! I want it, Steve!” he whined.

“Soon enough,” Steve promised, kissing him hard, because that made him want it even more than he already did, which was intensely so. “Soon as you’re better, you and me are gonna break this thing in like nobody’s business.”

“Steve!” And he was so close, Steve could tell. He swiped some slick from between them and nudged Bucky’s ass with his fingers. “Oh, God!” Bucky was shouting. “Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve! Ffffff-yes! Oh God!” And he came, drenching Steve’s abs with wet heat as Steve kissed him quiet, biting Bucky’s lips in between, to give him time to breathe.

“Damn, Buck,” Steve panted. “How are you so fucking sexy? Jesus Christ.”

He looked up just as Bucky pushed himself back up, reaching back to grip Steve. With a wicked, intense stare, he started to stroke him, teasing Steve’s chest with his free hand, his eyes boring into Steve’s the whole time.

“Where do you want to come, Steve?” he asked, his tone just as sexy-intense as his eyes.  

“I don’t care,” Steve gasped, suddenly at a loss for what to do with his own hands. Finally, he settled for gripping Bucky’s hips to help him balance. “Bucky, just--oooooooo, Bucky!”

“What am I, Steve?” Bucky prompted, slowing his strokes to a sweet agony.

Steve knew the answer this time. “My baby,” he sighed, reaching up to stroke his cheek, his other hand resting on Bucky’s chest over his heart. It felt so crazy to say it. What was crazier was how right it felt. “Mine,” he whispered again, sitting up to kiss Bucky and wrap one arm around his waist. _Mine._ It felt so good to say it out loud.

“What about my ass?” Bucky asked. “Do you wanna come on my ass?”

“Yeaaaaaaaaaaah,” Steve groaned, feeling it starting to build in his balls.

“Come for me, Steve,” Bucky ordered, his sex-gaze unforgiving. His hips started to move so that his muscular cheeks teased just a fraction away from where Steve’s erection throbbed.

“Bucky!” Suddenly things were desperate. Steve gripped Bucky’s hips and thrust quickly into his grip. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gasped and groaned, feeling Bucky milk him to completion, hot come spattering the soft curves of the ass that had started it all.

“Steve…” Bucky moaned luxuriously, leaning down and stretching out against him, his fingers teasing Steve’s oversensitive nipples one last time.

Steve twitched away from his touch. “Buck!” His vision was still blurry from orgasm, but he heard Bucky chuckle.

“You lasted a lot longer this time, Steve,” he teased.

“Is that what you want, Buck?” Steve tried to grin but the muscles in his face weren’t working quite right yet.

“I honestly don’t care,” Bucky whispered, his lips moving against Steve’s earlobe. “Just as long as you come hard.”

Steve gasped out a laugh. “Was that hard enough for you, baby?” And then Bucky was kissing him for all he was worth again, so Steve assumed the answer was yes.

“Did I warm you up?” he asked, stroking Bucky’s sweaty hair off his forehead when they next came up for air.

“So much,” Bucky nodded, pleased. “You’re a good furnace.” His hand slid across Steve’s chest from pec to pec, as if he were petting a dog.

“Bucky!” Steve squirmed. “They’re real sensitive!”

“What are?” Bucky leaned up over him, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“My--” Steve hesitated. “My man-boobs…”

Bucky laughed, delighted. “Man-boobs!” He gripped them, resting his chin in Steve’s man-cleavage. “Oh, I love your man-titties, Stevie.” Bucky rubbed them appreciatively.

“Fuck you!” Steve turned even more red, embarrassed.

“You did promise,” Bucky grinned, rolling over and tugging Steve on top of him.

Steve giggled. “Now your cum’s on both of us.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re such a poet, Steve Rogers.”

Steve paid him back with a kiss, flexing his pecs.

“Oh God!” Bucky laughed. “You’re tit-crushing me!”

“Feel the power of my titties!” Steve mock-roared, and they both burst into gales of laughter that lasted long seconds and left them breathless.

“Ow, my stomach!” Bucky complained. “Stop makin’ me laugh."

“Never,” Steve promised, bringing Bucky’s good hand to his lips and kissing it.

Bucky snuggled against him. “Let’s not go back.” Steve was about to protest, when he continued, “Just for tonight. Let’s sleep out here.”

Steve considered. They likely wouldn’t be missed, and if they were, the colonel HAD told him to “have a talk” with Bucky. He could just claim they’d been doing that. “You won’t be too cold?” Steve had to double-check.

“Not with you here to keep me warm,” Bucky whispered.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Steve promised, kissing Bucky gently.

After they cleaned up, they lay together under the blanket and stared up at the stars, which shone like bright crystals in the frigid night air. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” Bucky said, slowly drifting off, his head pillowed on Steve’s chest.

“Me, too,” Steve whispered, staring up at the universe, hoping God was listening this time.


	18. Foreshadowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky starts down Steve's laundry list of kink requests.  
> After having lunch with most of the Howling Commandos, he gets the opportunity to have a little chat with Howard Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mixed feelings about this chapter.  
> Warning for some racist slang used.
> 
> This chapter is rated Explicit and features:  
> Bucky (POV)  
> Steve  
> Dum Dum  
> Morita  
> Jones  
> Dernier  
> Howard Stark  
> Falsworth

Steve woke Bucky what felt like only a few hours later. Bucky was still tired, and struggled to make his limbs move as Steve packed up. “It’s dark,” he complained, attempting to rub sleep out of his eyes.

“‘course it’s dark,” Steve told him. “It’s November. Sun probably won’t be up till after breakfast.”

“I hate it,” Buck whined.

“Come on, Sleepyhead,” Steve smiled. But when Bucky stumbled on his way to mount the bike, Steve looked worried. “Sure you can hold on, Buck?” he asked.

“Steve.” Bucky straddled the seat, gripping his friend’s shoulder with his good arm. “I could hold on to you if I only had one arm and was half-dead. I’m just sleepy.”

Steve frowned back at him. “Don’t joke about that, Buck.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m cold. Warm me up.” He could tell Steve was thinking hard about this.

“We gotta get back before reveille,” he mused, looking anxious, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. Steve was ridiculously horny nowadays. Anything could be an innuendo.

“Give me your jacket, punk,” Bucky clarified.

“Oh.” Steve promptly slipped off his leather jacket and passed it back to Bucky. He pulled it on but didn’t fasten it, instead leaning forward to press up against Steve’s heat. He could feel it even through both of their uniforms.

“That’s better,” Bucky sighed, one hand snaking around to stroke down Steve’s thigh.

“Buck.” Steve froze.

“Drive,” Bucky whispered, nibbling Steve’s earlobe.

With a whimper, Steve started the engine, and they were off. Bucky buried his face in Steve’s collar, enjoying the scent of him which seemed to surround Bucky now that he was also wearing an item of Steve’s clothing. It was early, but he felt something stirring just the same, recalling his aborted piggy-back ride with Steve three days ago. Bucky hung on to Steve with one hand and teased fingers across Steve’s inner thigh with the other.

“Buck,” Steve gasped. “I hope you know what you’re doin’.”

He chuckled. “Pretty sure I have an idea, Stevie.” Bucky kissed the nape of Steve’s neck, cupping and gently stroking his groin through his pants.

“Oh, shit!” Steve gunned it, and their speed increased suddenly.

“Too much?” Bucky asked, making sure Steve was staying on the road.

“No.” Steve swallowed. “That’s...keep going, Buck. I mean--if you want to.” He was trying so hard not to put pressure on Bucky to perform, in spite of his increased sex drive. It was sweet.

“I want to,” Bucky growled in his ear, slowly opening Steve’s fly.

“Oh God, Buck.” Steve moaned.

“You’re kind of dirty,” Bucky whispered. “You know that, Steve Rogers?”

“I’ll be anything you want,” Steve gasped. “Just...just do it.”

“Do what?” Bucky teased, petting his cock through his pants.

“Touch me,” Steve begged, and his voice had to be much louder to be heard over the engine, because he was facing away. “Jerk me off while I drive.”

To Bucky, it was simultaneously hot and hilarious. Good thing they were alone out here. He proceeded to open Steve’s pants the rest of the way and draw out his erection.

“Mmm, Steve…” Bucky watched over Steve’s shoulder, enjoying how Steve’s new cock felt in his fingers. “DON’T close your eyes!” Bucky shouted, when he saw Steve starting to do just that to savor the sensation.

Steve did open his eyes, then, wide, but Bucky could tell this was not going to work. “Steve, pull over.”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve complained.

“Pull. Over! Or I’m not gonna do it.” With a disgruntled noise, Steve slowed the bike and pulled off the road. As soon as they stopped, Bucky started to stroke him in earnest. “Okay, so just. Pretend that we’re riding,” he told Steve.

“Oh God, Buck!” Steve closed his eyes and let his head fall back. It was something about having a 900 pound hunk of metal between his legs, Bucky thought. He was going crazy.

“That’s...some really dangerous driving, Steve,” Bucky observed.

“But we’re not--!” Steve gasped. “We’re not moving, though.” It was cute how Steve thought he could argue and thrust into Bucky’s fist at the same time.

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky whispered, biting his earlobe. Steve whined, biting his lip. “Faster,” Bucky said, drawing back his free hand for a good hard slap to Steve’s ass.

Steve braced himself on the front of the bike, leaning forward to give Bucky better access. The noises he was making now weren’t words. Bucky let go briefly to grab the tin in Steve’s jacket pocket, because things were starting to chafe. When his fingers came back wet, Steve groaned and his whole body rocked as Bucky gripped him.

“More,” Steve begged. “Please, Buck.”

“What, more of this?” Bucky asked, slapping Steve’s other cheek.

“Oh, God!” Because he was already leaned forward, Bucky moved up behind Steve, settling his backside against Bucky’s crotch. “Ohhh, yeah, Buck!” Steve growled softly. “Nnngh!” And now he was grinding in both directions, rubbing his ass against Bucky’s stiff length still in his pants, and thrusting against Bucky’s fingers.

“Man, you really do want this.” Bucky was surprised at how excited Steve was.  

The most Steve could manage for a response was a grunt. What they were doing now was pretty hot. But without the layers of clothes between them? Bucky wasn’t sure he could do it. Steve was bigger, stronger, healthier now. But Bucky had spent years telling both Steve and himself no on this count. He would have to think about it.

Right now, though, thinking was becoming difficult. He reached his other hand around to cup Steve’s balls and stroke his taint. “Oh, God!” Steve cried out again.

“Drive faster, Steve,” Bucky urged, feeling Steve’s body begin to tremble.

“Fuck me!” Steve gasped, thrusting desperately into Bucky’s grip. “God, Buck...fuck me!” Bucky hid his face against Steve’s back and gave him the pressure he needed to finish.

When Steve’s body froze, Bucky looked over his shoulder to catch the money shot. All over the tank cover. “Wow, Steve,” Bucky observed. “Have you thought of going into porn?”

Steve blinked at the scene, his brain gradually starting to work again. “No,” he replied slowly, then glanced over his shoulder. “Not unless you do.”

Bucky laughed. “Right. Because you and me takin’ dirty pictures together is gonna be real popular in the magazines.”

Steve leaned back against him, chuckling. “Hey, I’D read it.”

Bucky snorted. “I bet you would, perv.”

Steve’s grin was way too wide. “You know, we got time, you want…?”

“Naw.” Bucky shook his head. “You can just owe me later.”

“Later,” Steve said, grinning wickedly.

“I mean tonight,” Bucky amended.

“Nuh-uh. You just said later.” He slid off the bike and wrapped his arms around Bucky.

“Steve.”

“Later I’m gonna suck your dick…” Steve sing-songed, nuzzling Bucky’s throat.

It made him laugh. “Steve, you are such a--”

“Sexy guy?” Steve suggested, grabbing Bucky under the knees and tugging him forward so that his legs were on either side of Steve’s hips.

Bucky snorted. “Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Just for you,” Steve whispered, and Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve.

 _For now_ , Bucky thought, and it hurt. But he was distracted from his angst by Steve kissing him hungrily.

“Man, I just wanna fuck you up against that tree,” he growled.

“Steve!” Maybe pulling over hadn’t been such a great plan. “You’re the one who said we had to get back.”

Steve made an unhappy sound. “All right, all right!” He let go of Bucky and reluctantly put his clothing back together before climbing back on the bike.

“Wait.” Bucky used a corner of one of the blankets to wipe the bike clean. “We really don’t need that stain to get cooked on.”

“Ew!” Steve laughed.

“I just don’t want you to have to explain that to your boss.”

Steve thought about it for a moment. “Coulda been a bird?”

“You’re right, Steve,” Bucky deadpanned. “Birds are forever coming on military vehicles.”

Steve started giggling as he started the engine. “Fuckin’ birds!”

Bucky choked. “Literally!” They laughed like idiots all the way back to camp.

They were back in plenty of time for both of them to shower and change before reveille. “Steve, quit lookin’ at me!” Bucky hissed.

“I’m not,” Steve said, hurriedly looking straight ahead as he lathered up.

Bucky burst out laughing, because it was kind of adorable how Steve couldn’t take his eyes off Bucky’s naked body. He made sure to finish first and be dressed when Steve came out, because there was no place they could be alone in camp, and Bucky wasn’t sure Steve cared. One of them had to.

After breakfast, they shared an affectionate shoulder-grab before Steve had to get back to interviews. There were all kinds of new personnel in camp now. Bucky and the other men who’d already been debriefed but were staying were kept busy transporting and unloading supplies. The new personnel and their belongings had to be moved in while at the same time, Bucky and the others had to send off their fellows who were lucky enough to be going home or simply being transferred back to their units behind the lines. Bucky worked with Dum Dum for a while, unloading trucks.

When his shoulder started hurting--even though he’d been doing his best not to use his left arm--he got permission to do inventory and equipment checks. Bucky found Morita tweaking radios. “Hey, Jim.”

“Hey, Buchanan.”

“How’s it hangin, man?”

“A little to the left,” Morita grinned. “Hey, we missed you and Captain Perfect at dinner last night. Where’d you go?”

Well that was a question Bucky had not prepared an answer for. “Oh. Uh...you know. Steve likes to go for rides on his new motorcycle. We pal around, talk about old times, stuff like that.”

Morita’s eyes widened. “No way, you guys get to leave camp?”

“Well...I mean. I guess he’s got special permission on account of being a celebrity officer and shit.”

“Lucky.” Morita’s focus shifted back to his radios. “Hey, all those guns just came in from the train. You wanna check ‘em?”

“Sure.” Bucky cracked his knuckles. Disassembling and reassembling guns was something he could do in his sleep.

Because Bucky had had breakfast with Steve and spent most of the morning with Dugan, he grabbed lunch with the colored lunch shift so he could continue Jim-time with Morita and see Jones and Dernier. The two of them were already eating when Bucky and Morita joined them.

“Hey, Slant-eyes,” Jones greeted Morita. “Pretty boy.” Bucky rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Heya, Spook,” Morita gave it right back, jovially. “Frog.”

Dernier said a bunch of stuff in French that no one understood but him and Jones. “Yeah, your mother, too, asshole.” Morita dug into his food, not offended in the least by whatever had been said.

“Actually, he said ‘frog sounds pretty good right about now,’” Jones translated.

“Is he tryin’ to turn my stomach?” Morita asked, talking with his mouth full. “Because we eat raw monkfish liver where I come from. And these awesome little dried baby fish.” He showed how small the fish were with his fingers.

“Ugh!” Bucky laughed, and was glad for the gravy-covered slop on his tray.

“Pickled pigs’ feet,” Jones joined in. “And chitterlings. Those are pig intestines,” he explained. “Don’t forget chitterlings.”

Bucky was starting to feel a little ill. Seeing him look a bit green around the gills, Jones’ smile widened. “What’s wrong, Pretty boy?” Dernier elbowed him, but he kept going. “Don’t poor Irish kids eat the disgusting parts of animals, too?”

“No.” Bucky swallowed, looking dubiously at his food. “We eat potatoes.”

“Potatoes!” Jones and Morita said it the same time Bucky did.

“And lard. Hey, fuck you guys anyway,” Bucky said. Dernier joined in to give them an earful, and from the way he was nodding at Bucky, he assumed Dernier was in agreement.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, though it took Bucky a minute or two to regain his appetite. “So where were you last night?” Jones asked Bucky. “We didn’t see you or the captain. I asked Dugan and he said you weren’t at whites-only dinner either.”

Dernier mumbled something into his food, which gave Bucky an extra second to think. “They were off frolicking in the woods,” Morita answered for him. “Cap’s got some personal motorbike and they’ve been taking joy rides.”

“No shit?” Jones said. “I always wanted to try one of those. You think he’d let me have a look at it?”

Bucky felt oddly defensive about Steve’s bike after this morning. It had come to mean something personal to him. “I guess so,” he said, not wanting to seem like an asshole. “You’d have to ask him, though.”

“Sure, man. Hey, you’d better not skip out on dinner again tonight.”

“Yeah,” Morita agreed.

“ _Oui_.”

“Jeez.” Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t know it was a date, guys.”

“Don’t stand us up again, handsome.” Jones had the balls to wink again.

Bucky laughed. “Okay, okay. Hey, you guys all had your interviews already?” All three of his companions nodded. Bucky knew Dernier could understand everything he said. He just hated speaking English.

“They say we’re gonna be through with all the debriefings tomorrow, then it’s off to London to SSR headquarters,” Jones said.

“You goin’?” Bucky asked.

“Sure am. Mo?” Jones looked at Morita, who was shamelessly licking his tray clean.

“Yep. What about Frenchie?” Dernier gave him the two-finger salute. “You know, why is it that they flip you off with two fingers here and only one back home?” Morita philosophized.

“They got bigger assholes to fill,” Bucky volunteered. Morita laughed until he was banging on the table.

“Ooooooh, he got you there, Jacques!” Jones laughed, too.

Dernier just stared at Bucky quietly, calmly. And then winked.

Bucky had already been laughing, but now his laughter took on an embarrassed tone.

After lunch, Bucky got assigned to setting up the tent for some big wig they’d brought into camp. There was an awful lot of machine parts and electronics doo-dads, and Bucky got suspicious. Sure enough, Howard Stark came strutting in before they were finished. He started giving pointless orders like, “Move that two feet to the left,” and “Move this across to the other side of the tent.” Bucky wasn’t the only soldier getting annoyed, though he had bigger beef with Stark than being a self-centered rich guy.

About halfway through, the other guys up and walked out. Stark hadn’t dismissed them, but all of his gear was unloaded, and he’d started tinkering with one of the machines and been ignoring them for the last half hour. Bucky stayed behind.

“I got a question for you,” Bucky said, coming over to stand behind Stark with his arms crossed over his chest. “How long has the U.S. military been payin’ you to experiment on human beings?” But Stark did not respond. Either he was too engrossed in his work, or he didn’t consider Bucky worth answering.

Bucky decided to take the Italian approach and arrange an accident. He was reaching for a box of wrenches and spanners when Stark finally spoke. “Hand me that 13, would you?”

Bucky grabbed it, but he didn’t pass it over. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Of course I heard you,” Stark said. “I’m not deaf, pal. What are you, a reporter?” He shifted the special goggles he’d been wearing to his head. “If so, you should know I can’t answer a question like that. That’s all top secret.”

 _Top secret? What a civilian thing to say,_ Bucky thought. “Experimenting on people is wrong,” Bucky said. “I don’t give a fuck how top secret it is.”

“Well, you got a mouth on you,” Stark observed, finally looking at Bucky like he might actually be a person worth noticing. “I didn’t catch your name, pal.”

“I’m not your pal,” Bucky grunted. “I’m Sergeant James Barnes, and I’m here with a message for you.”

Stark looked thoughtful for a moment. “Oh, you’re the kid Hydra was running experiments on, right?”

‘The kid?’ Stark couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Bucky. And since when did the army share classified POW interviews with civilian contractors? Bucky had half a mind to punch Colonel Phillips in the face.

Stark grabbed the pencil from behind his ear and started to cast around for a piece of paper. “Hey, can you draw me a picture of the machine they were using--”   

“No!” Bucky glared at him. “You’re not. Listening.”

“Sure I am,” Stark answered glibly. “You’re trying to encourage me to apply ethics, of which you assume, because I’m the most brilliant engineer in the world and have weapons contracts with more than one country, I have none.”

Bucky hadn’t actually known that, but it fit with his disintegrating view of Howard Stark the man. “You know, I used to admire you,” Bucky said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stark replied. “Would you like an autograph? I brought 8x10s.”

“No I don’t want your fucking autograph,” Bucky spat.

“Chiclet?” He was reaching for the tin in his pocket when Bucky grabbed him by the throat and pushed him back against his machine.

“Experimenting on people is wrong. Don’t do it. I don’t give a fuck who pays you.”

“Hey, that wasn’t even my experiment, pal,” Stark argued, raising his hands in surrender.

“The next time someone asks you to HELP with an experiment on a human being, I want you to remember this conversation we’re having right now.” Bucky squeezed Stark’s trachea. He wondered if he broke the guy’s neck would it finally shut him up.

“Pretty sure we’re heading into court martial territory here, my friend,” Stark choked out the words, in spite of Bucky’s efforts. But he wasn’t going to be swayed by any threats. This wasn’t about him, this was about Steve. And all the soldiers before Bucky that had died on the table in Zola’s lab.

“If I ever hear about you helping to inject some damn serum into a person again? I’m gonna bash your fuckin’ brains in. _Capisce_?”

Stark, whose face was turning from a lovely shade of red to something more in the purple spectrum, nodded.

Bucky let him go. “We’re done here.” He stalked from the tent, feeling both villainous and vindicated. Dr. Erskine was off the hook due to premature death, so that just left Peggy and this Senator Brandt Katie had mentioned in her letter. Bucky made a check off his mental list.

In spite of feeling what he’d just done was justified, Bucky felt guilty the longer he thought about it. Maybe it didn’t matter, he thought. Stark had been right. If he reported what Bucky had done to anyone, Bucky could easily be dishonorably discharged. But he felt his point had been more important. At least, more important than his military career, but he didn’t want to be separated from Steve again. He really hadn’t thought this through.

Bucky was still kicking himself when he felt the weight of a familiar hand on his shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts.” Bucky turned around to find Falsworth smiling at him.

“Oh, Monty,” Bucky sighed. “I think I fucked up.”

“How so?” And Bucky told him the whole story.

“If you ask me, the man could do with a good thrashing,” Falsworth said. “Chin up, old chap. I doubt he’ll report it.”

“What makes you say that?” Bucky asked.

“Even Howard Stark must know fellows like Colonel Phillips despise tattle-tales.”

Bucky thought about it. What he’d done was out of line, but the colonel might view it as a private dispute between men that Stark had clearly lost, like Falsworth said.

Watching the realization dawn on Bucky’s face, Falsworth favored him with a sunny smile. “There, you see? Naught to worry about.” For a second, it looked like he was going to touch Bucky’s cheek, but then he dropped his hand to pluck a piece of lint from Bucky’s jacket instead.

Bucky smiled back. “Thanks, Monty. You’re really smart, you know that?”

“You flatter me, Sergeant,” Falsworth said. “Pray, continue.”

Bucky’s laugh was drowned out by a sudden clap of thunder. That was all the warning they had before the sky opened up and rained buckets down on them. They ran for cover. It looked like Bucky was going to have to kiss his overnight camp-out with Steve goodbye.


	19. Rain, Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howling Commandos Poker.  
> Comic book story time with Steve and Bucky.  
> Bucky proves he's really a Pisces.  
> A bit of smut and angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some crack happened. I'm not really sure what to say.  
> A known anachronism: CPR wasn't invented until after Steve and Bucky were popsicles. However. I wanted it for the joke. 
> 
> This chapter is rated Explicit and features:  
> Bucky(POV)  
> Steve(POV)  
> Falsworth  
> Dugan  
> Jones  
> Dernier  
> Morita

The rain kept all of them indoors, but they weren’t exactly idle.

Steve found Bucky and Falsworth in the mess, immediately wrapping an arm around his best friend’s shoulders to claim his territory. “Looks like we’re staying here tonight, Steve,” Bucky told him regretfully.

“Aw, I dunno,” Steve said, looking outside, thoughtful.

“Even if it weren’t for the rain,” Bucky explained, “the guys made me promise we’d have dinner with them tonight.”

“Really?” Steve looked surprised.

Bucky smiled. “They missed us last night, Steve.”

Steve looked at Falsworth. “I did note your absence, but I believe he’s talking of someone else,” the Lieutenant said.

Steve looked back at Bucky. “Morita AND Jones and Dernier,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded.

“We oughtta invite Dum Dum, too,” Bucky said.

“Er, isn’t he somewhat--?” Falsworth began.  

“Racist?” Bucky filled in the blank. “I’ll talk to ‘im. He should be used to at least Gabe by now.”

It turned out Dum Dum didn’t need much persuading. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could eat dinner with whichever shift he chose.

With the rain coming down, the segregation became more physical than temporal. The seven of them found themselves crammed into the French barracks tent, which was now mostly vacant. Toward the end of dinner, everyone but Steve and Bucky pulled out smokes, and Jones produced a deck of cards. “All right. Seven-card stud. Who’s in?” he asked, flipping the cards masterfully from one hand to the other.

 _“Tricheur!”_ Dernier accused, and there was a brief pause as they argued back and forth in French. Steve just smiled behind his sleeve. He could understand more and more of their conversations.

“I swear,” Jones told the rest of them, holding up his hands to claim innocence. “No tricks.”

“Well I’m in!” Dugan declared. “What are we playing for?”

“Not money,” Bucky cut in. “I gotta send all mine home to the girls.”

“Same,” Steve said. He’d witnessed first-hand how Kate had struggled to make ends meet.

“Lookit you couple o’ boy scouts,” Morita said. “You’re makin’ me cry.” He slapped a stack of chips on the table.

“What the--?” Dum Dum asked.

“How resourceful!” Falsworth declared. “But what shall they represent if not coin?”

Dernier made a suggestion that was best left untranslated.

“Favors?” Bucky suggested. “Like for duty-trade and shit?”

“I like this idea.” Morita steepled his fingers and smiled wickedly.

“Objections?” Steve asked, glancing around the table. There were none. “All right then.”

It only took a couple of hours for Bucky to win. Steve was out first. He had no poker face at all. It came down to Bucky and Dernier. Dugan had stormed off in a temper. Morita had wisely opted out with a few chips left to his name. Jones seemed untroubled that Dernier had all of his chips.

Steve watched, trying to work out how Bucky did it. It seemed like he just gave the Frenchman a look, and it was all over. “Aw, I’m just kiddin’ you guys,” Bucky grinned, after he’d slid the pile of chips over to his spot at the table. “I ain’t holdin’ you to any of this.”

Morita and Falsworth looked relieved. Dernier looked disappointed. Jones just grinned.

“That was fun, though, huh, Stevie?”

Steve had been thinking about how to work with the rain for tonight. “What? Hm?”

Bucky laughed. “We’ll have to work on your game.”

When Bucky went to check on Dum Dum to make sure there were no hard feelings, Steve said his goodbyes to the others and ran back to his tent to pack. He was gone by the time Bucky got there.

“Steve?”

The roar of the bike’s engine answered from around the corner. Bucky peered out the tent flap at him. “Are you serious?” It was still pouring.

“Get on,” Steve grinned. “Trust me, Buck,” he added, when his friend still looked hesitant.

Bucky did trust Steve, but he put on his rain gear first. It was a good thing, too, because the bike threw up mud as they slogged down the usual road. “Steve, what if it gets stuck?” Bucky asked.

“Then I’ll carry you AND the bike to the lake,” Steve shouted back, unperturbed.

Could he really do that? Bucky wondered. When they finally got there, Bucky hid under a tree that provided some shelter and watched while Steve constructed a crude tent out of tarps and poles. “You’re crazy, Steve,” Bucky told him when Steve was finished.

“Get in,” Steve told him. It seemed sturdy enough.

Bucky slid inside, quickly divesting himself of his rain gear. Steve handed him a towel. “Wow, you really came prepared, didn’t you?”

For an answer, Steve lit a lamp, setting it to one side as he stripped down to his pants. Bucky found himself staring. When Steve caught him, he looked away, guiltily.

Steve laughed. “Since when are you so shy, Buck?”

“Shut up,” Bucky said, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. “C’mere and make me warm.”

Steve was happy to do that, behaving for the moment, just holding Bucky and nuzzling his hair.

“You really suck at poker,” Bucky observed. “You know that?”

“‘I cannot tell a lie,’” Steve quoted.

Bucky snorted. “Horse shit.”

“No, I really suck at poker,” Steve admitted.

Bucky smiled and lay back. “Gosh, I forgot my book. What’re we gonna do out here all night? It’s raining too hard for stickball.”

Steve grinned, lying down next to him. “Jeez, I dunno.” Then he reached into his duffle and produced a sketchbook and soft pencils. “You really shoulda planned better, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Asshole.”

Steve laughed. “I’m just kiddin’, Buck.” He set the sketchbook aside. “C’mere.”

“No way, nuh-uh.” Bucky sat up. “You blew your chance, Steve.”

“That’s not the only thing I’m gonna blow,” Steve growled, and Bucky caught him mid-tackle, laughing. “Come on, Buck, you promised!” Steve whined.

“Just sit here with me for a little bit, Stevie,” Bucky said, tugging Steve close. “Tell me a story.” He handed Steve his sketchbook and pencils. Bucky curled up against Steve’s warmth, using the duffle bag for a backrest.

Steve’s lips twitched in a little grin as he opened to a blank page. This was a game they hadn’t played in a while. It made him feel like they were kids again. Steve started to draw.

“Okay,” he began. Bucky leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder to watch, throwing an arm across his stomach in a loose hug. “Once upon a time. There was a...stupid little punk…” Steve’s nimble fingers scratched out a cartoon version of his smaller self. “...named… Reeve.”

“He wasn’t stupid,” Bucky amended. “He was sexy.”

“Okay.” Steve started again, drawing a cartoon of his smaller self standing proudly, with arms akimbo, like he was posing in a Macy’s window. “A stupid sexy punk--”

“A LITTLE sexy punk,” Bucky said.

Steve turned and kissed Bucky’s forehead, adding brass buttons to cartoon Steve’s jacket. “A sexy little punk named Reeve. Only Reeve’s friend was even sexier.” He drew a cartoon version of Bucky.

“What was his name?” Bucky asked.

“Reeve’s sexy-ass best friend was named Plucky.” Steve spent longer than he had to on Plucky’s hair, because it needed to be just right.

“Plucky!?” Bucky laughed.

“Hell yeah,” Steve said. “Reeve’s best friend Plucky was the sexiest guy in all the five boroughs.

“Steve,” Bucky said. “Why is his cock hangin’ out?”

“He was so damn sexy,” Steve continued to add details to Plucky’s cartoon member. “So damn sexy, his dick wouldn’t stay in his pants. His pants could not contain the sexy...ness.”

Bucky laughed. “What the hell, Steve?”

But Steve was already drawing the next scene. “Everywhere Plucky went, the girls would scream.”

“Sure, cause his cock’s hangin’ out,” Bucky said.

Steve shushed him, drawing the crowd of girls surrounding Plucky. “The girls would scream...and pass out.” Sure enough, some of the cartoon fangirls were lying on the ground around Plucky. “Oh, Plucky!” Steve’s falsetto fangirl voice was hilarious.

“Holy shit,” Bucky laughed. “Did he give ‘em mouth-to-mouth?”

Steve snorted. “Nope. He was way too sexy for that.”

Bucky looked at Steve. “Mouth-to-mouth is pretty sexy.”

“Nah.” Steve shook his head no. “Plucky liked for his girls to be awake when he gave ‘em mouth-to-mouth. He was a stand-up guy.”

“Well, he had to stand up,” Bucky pointed out. “His cock was too big for him to lie down anywhere.”

Steve burst into giggles. “Okay, who’s tellin’ this story, Buck?”

“You are,” Bucky said, snuggling against him again.

“Right. Anyway, Reeve. He didn’t feel like he was sexy enough for his best friend.” For some reason, cartoon Steve was riding an alligator across the Nile now.

“So he went to Egypt?” Bucky guessed.

“Nope.” Steve kept drawing, and there was the pyramid of Khufu. “He went to see the wizard.” On top of the pyramid, an old man with glasses was floating in thin air.

“The wizard could fly?”

“The wizard could do anything,” Steve said, as if it were obvious. “He was the wizard.”

“Oh, okay.” Bucky kissed Steve’s jaw for being a smartass punk.

“Reeve told the wizard his problem. He said, ‘Please, great wizard. I just need more sexiness for my best friend Plucky.’

‘Plucky?’ the wizard said. ‘You mean the sexiest guy in New York? Oy vey.’” The wizard had a German accent, too. Bucky loved when Steve did voices for his drawings. “‘That’s a lot of sexy.’

‘I know, right?’ Reeve said. ‘Please, Mr. Wizard, can you help me?’” Steve started to draw a sarcophagus, like King Tut had.

“Did he die?” Bucky asked. Steve leaned over and licked his cheek for interrupting. “Ew!” Bucky laughed. “What the fuck, Steve?”  

“The wizard put Reeve in a magic box and flew him to the highest part of the desert.” The action panel was pretty good, the wizard flying with his cape billowing behind him, moving the coffin through the air with the power of his mind.

“But aren’t most deserts below sea level?” Bucky asked.

“Shush!” Steve told him. “Or I’ll lick you somewhere else.”

Bucky smirked, because he felt that was inevitable, regardless.

“Like I said, the highest part of the desert. Where the summer solstice would hit the magic box just right, and give Reeve the sexiness he needed.”

Bucky was snorting with laughter.

“When Reeve emerged from the box, he was transformed!” The new Reeve cartoon had ridiculously bulging muscles. His head was nearly hidden by his shoulders.

“Ew, turn him back!” Bucky demanded.

“That’s exactly what Plucky said when Reeve got back to New York.”

“Awww.” Muscular Reeve had apparently contracted the wizard’s powers of flight, because he hovered over the Chrysler building, flexing.

“Plucky took one look at Reeve and said, ‘Who the fuck are you and what did you do with my sexy little friend?’”

Bucky squeezed Steve tight. On the page, Plucky was so angry, his cock had gone back in his pants.

“But Reeve said, ‘It’s me, Plucky. Don’t you remember me, pal?’”

Bucky could never understand how Steve got the expressions on his cartoons so evocative. Muscular Reeve looked stricken that his friend hadn’t recognized him.

“And he flew down, and he hugged Plucky with all his muscles, to show him how much he missed him.”

“Steve. Did he just kill him?” The hug was overly enthusiastic, and the Plucky cartoon didn’t look like he could breathe.

“Uh...no,” Steve decided, but apparently he’d been thinking about it, because he was already drawing Plucky lying with his arms folded over his chest, holding a calla lily. “He did pass out, though,” Steve said, drawing a glass dome over the coffin Plucky was lying in. “From the sexiness.”

Bucky giggled. “Wait, where’s the dwarfs?”

“Ahhh, yeah!” Steve’s pencil went crazy, drawing five very familiar caricatures standing, forlorn, around the coffin. The Jones dwarf was carrying Dernier piggy-back, so that he could peer into the coffin from a higher angle. He was lighting a pile of TNT. Dum Dum was chewing his cigar angrily, trying in vain to lift the glass lid. Falsworth dwarf was crying a swiftly-rising pond around his own feet. Morita was radioing God for help.

Bucky laughed in spite of himself. “That’s kinda mean, Steve.”

“Nah, they’re Plucky’s dwarfs. They love him so.”

Bucky poked Steve in the ribs. “I feel like someone should give him mouth-to-mouth.”

Steve surprised him by leaning over suddenly and giving Bucky a little mouth-to-mouth. “Steve!” Bucky came up for air, laughing. “Finish my story!”

Steve growled and bit him, but sat up again and took up his sketchbook and pencil. “‘Oh no, I gotta give him mouth-to-mouth!’ Reeve said. The dwarfs had been struggling with the glass coffin, but he just picked the top off and threw it into outer space.”

“On account of his bulging muscles,” Bucky added.

“On account of his SEXINESS,” Steve corrected, and Bucky chuckled.

In the new drawing, Reeve was touching Plucky’s face with the most tender expression. “Then he leaned over and--”

“Steve,” Bucky asked. “Why is he touching Plucky’s cock?”

Steve giggled, drawing furiously.

“This is the dirtiest fuckin’ story you have _ever_ told...that is NOT mouth-to-mouth.”

“But look!” Steve declared. “It woke him up!” And indeed, Plucky was sitting up in his coffin, even though his eyes were still closed, his mouth was open in a gasp, and he was clutching the back of Reeve’s head.

“I bet it did!” Bucky shook his head. “Skip to the end. This got pornographic.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve turned the page. Now Plucky had huge muscles, too. At least both Reeve’s and Plucky’s cocks were back in their respective pants. “Reeve’s sexiness filled Plucky until he came back to life, and they were equally sexy.”

“I don’t know about that--”

“Buck, is this your story or my story?” Steve asked.

“Well I **thought** it was MY story, but--”

“Shush.” Steve kissed him quiet. “They were both sexy. And they lived together in the sexiest apartment in Brooklyn. The End.”

“Were they happy?” Bucky asked, watching Steve draw the well-known angles of his family’s apartment.

“Hell, yes!” Steve said. “They were so damn sexy. And they had each other.”

Bucky pressed his cheek against Steve’s chest, hugging him tight. His smile was a little sad. “Thanks, Stevie. You haven’t drawn me one of those in forever.”

“It’s been too long,” Steve said in his bedroom voice, setting his art supplies aside and laying Bucky down on the blankets. He brushed Bucky’s hair back from his face. “I didn’t see you for almost four months, Buck.” The grief of their separation showed in his expression.

“Poor Steve,” Bucky whispered, reaching up and brushing fingers across his cheek. Steve closed his eyes, leaning into the caress.

“I don’t wanna go back to London,” Steve said suddenly. “I just wanna stay here with you, Buck.”

Bucky listened to the rain fall outside the tarp. It was still pouring down. But the noise of the drops hitting the lake was the most glorious, soothing percussion. “It’s not safe here, this close to the front, Steve,” he murmured.

“But it’s safe right now,” Steve said. “Here, together. Like this.”

*

Bucky held him close, and Steve felt the way he’d felt when they were kids. Like Bucky was some avenging angel, shining, glorious, sent to earth just to protect him. “Kiss me, Buck.” And he did, slow and warm, their tongues meeting with a jolt of sexual electricity.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, and started to slide out of his arms.

“Buck.” Steve reached out for him, looking confused.

“Follow me, Stevie,” Bucky said, pushing himself up to shrug out of his clothes. This was looking better to Steve, all of a sudden. Steve shed his pants enthusiastically. But Bucky was backing toward the tarp’s opening, removing clothes as he went.

“Buck?”

“Follow me, Steve!” he cried playfully, and ducked out into the ice-cold storm, stark nude.

“Bucky!” Steve crawled after him, his shorts still on. “Bucky, you’ll catch cold!”

“No I won’t!” Bucky said, running toward the lake, already soaked to the skin.

“Bucky!” Steve chased after him, his bare feet complaining of twigs and rocks as he ran. Thanks to his new body, Steve caught up quickly. He grabbed Bucky, afraid he was going to jump in the lake. “Buck, what the fuck?” he cried, spinning his friend around to face him.

But Bucky was laughing hard. Steve wondered if he’d lost it. “Kiss me in the rain, Steve!” Bucky threw up his arms, hands reaching up to the sky as if asking for more.

Still worried, Steve kissed him cautiously on the cheek. “Buck...let’s get back inside.”

But Bucky was slipping out of his arms, running off again, this time following the edge of the lake. “Catch me, Steve!”

“Bucky!” This was crazy. Sure, Bucky had been known to run out in the occasional summer rain--so long as Steve did not follow without galoshes, rain slicker, hat, and umbrella--but this was no warm summer rain. Steve tried to think of what could have caused this sudden insanity.

Steve chased after Bucky again. “Buck, stop! Please!” At first, Steve thought he had listened, but then Bucky was on the ground.

“Buck!” Steve ran up to him in a panic. Bucky just rolled over on his back, laughing. Steve knelt down to check him for injuries (maybe it was a head injury?)

Bucky just reached up and tugged Steve down against him. “Oh my God, Steve,” he sighed. “The water is steaming off your skin!”

Steve hadn’t really noticed, but he didn’t feel cold. Bucky did, though, where their skin touched. “Warm me up, Steve,” he said, rubbing up against him.

“Jesus, Buck. We gotta go get you dry.” He tried to pick Bucky up, which was easier said than done, because he’d gotten slippery with rain and mud, and he wouldn’t stop wriggling.

“No, Steve, get wet with me,” Bucky said, teasing Steve’s lips for a kiss.

“Buck!” But as much as Steve protested, Bucky’s writhing was doing things to him. “Jesus. What’s gotten into you?”

“Hopefully you?” Bucky asked, rubbing his chest against Steve’s.

“Oh God.” And Bucky was reaching down for his crotch, rubbing and teasing Steve through his shorts. “Buck, no,” Steve whined, his eyes closing.

“You have such pretty eyelashes, Steve,” Bucky observed, sliding his thumb over the head of Steve’s cock, drawing a moan from Steve. Bucky kissed him again, warm and wet. “I like how the water clings to them in little droplets.” He kissed Steve’s eyelids. Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh as Steve tugged their bodies together tight, like puzzle pieces. “Oh, Steve. God you feel so good.” 

“Buck,” Steve growled, freeing himself from the fetters of his fly and thrusting between Bucky’s thighs. His friend groaned and let his head fall back. Bucky was rock-hard against Steve’s abs. “How do you want it?” Steve asked, moving in to gently bite Bucky’s neck.

But Bucky started squirming until he’d rolled over underneath Steve. Steve slid his hand beneath him, not wanting Bucky’s tender bits to touch the mud and dead leaves on the ground. He looked back at Steve over his shoulder. “Buck, I can’t,” Steve whined.

“Please, Steve?”

“Even if I didn’t care about hurting you, the Vaseline’s back there.” He pointed toward their abandoned hide-out. Bucky slid out from underneath him and knelt up on all fours, facing Steve for a kiss.

“Your turn, then.”

Steve blinked. “Really? You mean it?” But part of Steve was nervous. He wanted that lube, too.

Bucky kissed him again, tasting Steve’s mouth. Steve’s heart beat faster, and he reached out to cup the back of Bucky’s neck. “Buck, come on,” he whispered. “We gotta go dry off before you get sick.”

“But I like it here,” Bucky whispered. His skin was like ice.

“Come on, Buck.” Steve stood, tugging Bucky to his feet as well. He pulled him close, walking back toward the tarp as he kissed Bucky again.

“Mmm, Steve.” Bucky followed, but there was something about being in the rain that seemed to really turn his crank.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve urged between kisses, slowly luring him in the right direction. “Come on.” His hands started to roam over Bucky’s skin as they kissed, and Bucky rubbed up against Steve enthusiastically.

When they reached the lean-to, Steve knelt down, stroking his fingers over Bucky’s hipbones. “Steve!” Bucky’s eyes opened wide. He was just so damn ticklish. Steve leaned forward to lick and tease the same area, making Bucky squirm. “Steve, stop!” And Steve did, instead focusing on a point further down. He’d promised.

Bucky groaned, already halfway there. The rain made him taste different. Steve licked his thighs and balls, nuzzling his shaft. He reached up to run his hands down Bucky’s chest, flicking his nipples. The sound Bucky made was encouraging. Steve nibbled his length, teasing with his tongue. “Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve.” Bucky was panting. He reached down to grip Steve’s shoulders.

Steve stopped teasing and finally wrapped his lips around Bucky, gently sucking. He was rewarded with a loud moan. “Steve, Steve, Steve...” Bucky sighed in rhythm with Steve’s bobbing. When his fingers started to dig into Steve’s back, leaving scratches across his shoulders, he knew Bucky was close. Steve gripped his ass, his tongue merciless, until Bucky shuddered and flexed against him. Steve drank him down like candy. Bucky’s come had always tasted sweet to Steve.

When Bucky started to slump against him, Steve scooped him up and brought him inside out of the rain. “You really are stupid, you know that?” Steve told him, laying Bucky on the blanket and using a towel to dry him off.

“I’m cold Steve,” Bucky complained, starting to shiver.

“No shit, pal,” Steve told him. “And who warned you about that?”

“I need my furnace,” he said, reaching up for Steve.

When Steve was satisfied Bucky was dry enough, he lay down with him, pulling the last dry blanket over them. Bucky immediately pressed up against him, and started to kiss Steve again. “Well hello there,” Steve said, surprised Bucky was still going.

“Can you reach the lube now?” Bucky murmured, gently pulling Steve’s lower lip between his teeth.

“Seriously?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling like his skin was on fire.

“Get it, Steve,” Bucky whispered. And Steve could hardly move fast enough, fumbling in the dark. When had the lamp gone out?

When he came back, Steve paused, at a loss. “How do you wanna do this, Buck?”

“C’mere.” Steve lay down against him, suddenly nervous. “Gimme.” Bucky slipped the tin from his fingers.

“But you’re not--”

“Shhh.” Bucky kissed him quiet, reaching around to rub Steve’s ass. “I miss your sweet little ass,” he said, thoughtful.

Steve frowned down at him in the darkness. “You don’t like my new ass? It’s bigger.”

“Your new ass is almost too perfect,” Bucky complained. “I mean, I like it.” He kissed Steve, soothing. “But I loved your old ass.”

Steve kissed him. “Thank you for loving my old, flat, bony ass.”

Bucky laughed. “It wasn’t either. It was a sweet little ass.” He gave Steve’s new one a gentle smack.

“Mmm, Buck…”

“You’re such a perv, Stevie.”

“Again,” Steve growled.

“Nuh-uh,” Bucky told him. “You don’t get to give me orders this time.”

Steve rolled over like a dog waiting for his belly to be scratched. “‘kay.”

“Hips up, Steve.”

Steve complied, turning and resting his chin on his arms. Bucky gripped his ass with one hand, teasing with the other until he could slide one finger in. “Oh, Buck!” Steve hissed, hips rocking.

“You’re so hot for this, huh?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve said, biting his lip.

“How come, Stevie?” His tone was strangely casual for someone whose fingers were in Steve’s butt.

“Cuz,” Steve hissed again, feeling the burning ache as Bucky stretched him.

“‘cause?” Bucky prompted, pinching Steve’s cheek hard.

“Nnn! ...cuz...I wanna feel what you feel.”

“You mean you think it’s better on the bottom?” Bucky asked.

Steve opened his eyes, trying to turn back and look at Bucky. “No? I just...it didn’t seem fair.” Bucky’s fingers disappeared suddenly, leaving Steve whimpering.

“Like how?” Bucky asked, moving behind him, making Steve’s heartbeat thunder in his chest.

“Like...I wanted you to have a chance...if you wanted?”

Steve could hear the smile in Bucky’s voice. “Because you were tired of being so bossy all the time?”

“No!” Steve said, defensive. Bucky laughed. “Bucky,” Steve whined, and Bucky’s fingers returned just as suddenly.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.”

Steve watched his silhouette in the darkness. “Are you...having trouble...?”

Bucky sighed in frustration. Steve squirmed away and then lay on his back, pulling Bucky down on top of him. “‘sokay, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t reply, he just rested his forehead against Steve’s shoulder. “Buck.” Steve stroked his palm down Bucky’s spine and back up. He ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair, gently scratching his scalp.

Bucky just lay against him.

Steve rubbed his shoulders. “Bucky,” he said, gently. Then he felt the damp on his skin. “Buck.” Steve gently rolled them over, reaching out to cup Bucky’s cheek. “Bucky, it’s okay. We don’t have to do anything. I swear.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve and buried his face against Steve’s shoulder again. “I want to do what makes you happy, Steve,” Bucky whispered. “But I can’t.”

“Bucky.” Steve rested a hand on either side of Bucky’s face, touching his forehead to his friend’s. “What makes me happy is when you’re happy. You don’t gotta do special stuff for me.”

“But I _want_ to,” Bucky insisted tearfully.

“Buck.” Steve told him seriously. “Sex is for both of us. Not just me.” And it made him worry a little bit. How often had Bucky done things just to please him? Things he might not have wanted?

“I like to make you feel good,” he said, and it broke Steve’s heart a little.

“But you gotta feel good, too, right?” Steve asked. “I don’t want it if it don’t make you feel good, too, Buck.”

“But I want to, Steve.” And Steve could tell he was crying again. He just tugged Bucky close and held him.

“It’s gonna take time, Buck. It’s okay. We’ll work it out. Together.”

But for whatever reason, Bucky was inconsolable. And Bucky couldn’t say why, so Steve could only guess. 

He cried himself to sleep, and Steve rearranged their bodies so Bucky wouldn’t get a crick in his neck, tucking the blankets close around his bare skin.

Next to him, Steve just lay there, thinking. This was a problem. Not because he’d just found out Bucky did some things for no other reason than to please him. Not because Steve couldn’t wait for his friend’s injured libido to heal. But because he personally couldn’t fix it. And the guy responsible was still walking around, sucking air, while Bucky was lying here, broken. Steve gritted his teeth. That needed to be rectified.

It wasn’t long before Bucky stirred in his sleep, curling up against Steve and throwing one leg over him. Steve couldn’t help but smile. It had become their standard sleep position. He wrapped an arm around Bucky, holding him close. Whatever came now, it wasn’t going to touch him. Steve would see to that.


	20. I'm Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve puts his foot down, makes a promise, and keeps a promise.  
> Bucky claims his territory, and blows Steve's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Explicit and features:  
> Steve(POV)  
> Bucky  
> Falsworth  
> Colonel Phillips  
> Peggy  
> Morita  
> Dernier  
> Jones  
> Dugan

Steve didn’t wake up as early as he’d meant to. The first thing he did was press his lips to Bucky’s forehead to check for any sign of a temperature. He felt normal. Steve listened to the sounds outside of the tent for the weather forecast. It was still raining, but not as hard as it had been yesterday. Steve carefully extricated himself from his sleeping pal to go pull on clothes. The air felt cold this morning even to him. Again, Steve worried about Bucky, reaching down to touch his cheek, and comparing the temperature of his skin to his own. Bucky’s felt cooler, but that was normal, right? 

“Steve,” Bucky whined, feeling blindly around for his missing human pillow.

“Sit up, Buck,” Steve told him, gently, kneeling down to tug Bucky’s undershirt over his head and start to get him dressed.

“Steeeve.” Bucky groaned, cranky. “Sleeeeeeeeep.”

Steve chuckled, kissing Bucky on the forehead as he tucked him into his shirt and started to fasten the buttons. “Come on, Buck. It’s our last day in Italy.”

“Thank GOD,” Bucky declared, starting to wake up a little.

“So we gotta get back in time,” Steve continued.

“Steve,” Bucky said, sleepily, reaching out to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders and use him for a pillow again, this time sitting up.

“Don’t make me put you over the bike like sack of potatoes, Buck.”

“You do and I’ll kick your ass,” Bucky warned, cracking his eyes open a smidge.

Steve laughed. “There’s my guy.” He gently pinched Bucky’s cheek before giving him a brief kiss.

“So you WANT me to kick your ass,” Bucky said, never having been a fan of cheek pinches, even by aunts, who were entitled to them.

Steve sighed, glancing outside at how light the sky was. “I don’t think we’ll have time for foolin’ around on the bike like we did yesterday, Buck.”

When he glanced back, Bucky was giving him a look. “Steve, how do you get ‘fool around’ out of ‘kick your ass’?”

“Easy,” Steve shrugged. “Substitute your foot kicking for your hand slapping and you’ve got foolin’ around.”

Bucky laughed, but not hard. He was obviously tired.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked, concerned, feeling his forehead again.

“Steve, quit it!” Bucky knocked his hand away. “I’m fine.” Steve kissed his forehead again.

“Just makin’ sure you don’t get sick from bein’ out in the rain last night, Buck.”

“Quit worrying, Steve,” Bucky told him. “‘sides, it’s  **my** job to worry about  _ you _ .”

Steve leaned forward to nuzzle him when he saw Bucky starting to nod off again. “You really think I never worried about you, Buck?” he asked.

“You know what I mean, Steve,” Bucky grumped, kissing him because he was close enough to.

“Come on,” Steve said, standing and offering Bucky a hand up. “Let’s get this stuff packed up so we don’t miss reveille.”

Bucky sighed, but he let Steve pull him up. And accidentally-on-purpose stumbled forward into him. “Steve, you’re so warm….” His arms wrapped around Steve. It was so tempting.

“Come on, Buck.” He stroked Bucky’s back, just barely resisting the urge to keep going and grope his ass. “You can wait under the tree again if you want.”

“Steeeeeeeeeeve.” Bucky leaned forward until all of his weight was resting against him. Steve did give him a little goose, then, just to wake him back up. Bucky grunted in disgust, pulling on his rain gear and stomping out of the tent.

“I love you!” Steve called after him.

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky called back. He hated waking up early. Steve smiled, hurrying to get everything packed before they were soaked again.

He was tying everything down on the back of the bike when Bucky climbed on, starting the engine. “Hey,” Steve looked up. “You don’t know how to drive that.”

“Like it’s hard to figure out,” Bucky said, revving the engine.

Maybe if the weather had been better, Steve would have let him drive, or at least guided him in his first attempt. But the weather was crap, and the risk was too great. “Come on, Buck,” Steve urged gently, reaching for the handlebars. “Not with the road like how it is.”

“But sometime?” Bucky asked, apparently satisfied if this was the answer.

“Sure,” Steve said. “Maybe when we get back to London.” The streets would surely be more clear there.

Bucky threw his arms around Steve’s neck. “Promise?” He rubbed his cheek against Steve’s, and Steve thought back to his joke about starting a fire with their stubble.

He smiled, feeling his heart constrict a little with all the feelings he could never seem to express for Bucky. “I promise, Buck.” Steve dropped a kiss on his temple.

They got back just in time for reveille. The day was a long one as Steve and the others rushed to finish up interviews for the last few men. It was even more of a drag, because just when he thought he might catch a break to see Bucky, Falsworth popped in to give him some bad news.

“The colonel’s called a luncheon meeting,” the lieutenant told him, leaning on one of the support poles of Steve’s small office-tent. He didn’t look any happier about it than Steve was.

“No Bucky,” Steve said, gloomily, not even realizing he’d spoken out loud. Something in Steve had come to recognize Falsworth as a sympathizer, and had stopped self-editing around him.

“I’m afraid not,” Falsworth echoed, uncrossing his arms and giving Steve a tentative look. The spiteful part of Steve, the kid who used to start fights in the neighborhood, wanted to tell Falsworth that they weren’t friends just because they both loved Bucky. But the Good Man inside him had pretty much already decided that’s exactly what they were and why.

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Sure.” Steve stood, straightening his uniform a little in expectation of seeing Peggy again. She was the silver lining in all of this.

At luncheon--which seemed to just be a fancy way of saying lunch, as far as Steve could tell--Peggy and Falsworth drank tea and ate little finger sandwiches while he and the colonel stared at one another across the table until one of the cooks brought in two plates with actual food on them. Steve was relieved. The finger sandwiches were nice, but it was like trying to fill your belly with tissue paper and fairy wings. Like Bucky had guessed several nights ago, it took a little more to keep Steve’s new body going.

“Where’s Stark?” Colonel Phillips asked his assistant, digging into his hash like it had done him personal injury and he needed revenge.

The unfortunate corporal wrung his hands anxiously. He never seemed to have news Phillips wanted to hear. “He...uh...he asked to take lunch in his tent,” the corporal said.

“Really.” The colonel was not pleased. “Did he say why?”

“Unknown, Sir. He’s been acting kind of nervous since yesterday.”

Phillips thought about this. “Well, he is a civilian. I guess being so close to the front lines would make him jumpy.”

Peggy looked like she disagreed, but she didn’t say so. Steve wished she would talk. It was so much nicer listening to Peggy than it was to the old bulldog.

“I guess it’s just as well,” the colonel continued. “We’ll be out of here tonight.”

“Tonight?” Steve asked, suddenly realizing how stupid he sounded when the three others turned to stare at him.

“What’s wrong, Rogers? You got another hot date planned you’re not telling us about?” Falsworth just looked awkward at the colonel’s joke, but Peggy was giving Steve that glare.

“Uh...no, Sir, it’s just...is it safer traveling at night?” 

“By plane?” the colonel said. “Hell, yes. And we don’t need to put Stark in any more danger than he’s already been in by coming here.”

“But I don’t understand--” Steve said.

Peggy cut him off, saving him from looking even more foolish. “What the colonel means, Captain, is that senior personnel will be transported via Stark’s plane back to London. The four of us and a few others.”

Steve had never considered flying an option. Even when he’d come in with the show, they’d never been flown anywhere.

“Well...what others?” Steve wanted to know.

“You demanding another list from me, son?” Phillips asked, well on the way to being annoyed.

“No, Sir. It’s just--”

“Senior personnel from the SSR,” Peggy explained again. “Remember all the men we had brought in to help with the debriefings?”

“Oh.” Steve said. “Well, what about the soldiers--”

“They’ll catch a troop train to Naples, where a troop ship will take them over to England.”

Steve’s food was forgotten on his plate. “Well, all due respect, Sir, then that’s where I need to be.” It wasn’t just for Bucky--though Steve had promised Bucky he wouldn’t leave him again, and he was going to keep that promise no matter what--it was also this wild double standard he’d noticed in his service thus far. The men were treated almost the same as equipment, while the officers were treated like VIPs.

But now the colonel was glaring at him. “I’m the one giving the orders here, son.”

“I know, Sir, but if I ever want the men to respect me, I have to walk a mile in their shoes...if you know what I mean. I can’t be seen to get special treatment.” When Phillips was about to argue, Steve continued, “I’m not career military like you, Sir. I never served in the ranks. How can they take me seriously? Like you said, I’m just a chorus girl.” And he hated repeating that insult, but sometimes people deserved to have their words thrown back in their faces. Whatever it took, really, Steve was going to do it.

The colonel seemed to consider this. “I think you’re crazy, Rogers, but you may have a point.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, son.”

“Oh.” Then Steve saw the look on Peggy’s face. That would take a little bit more work.

When lunch was over, Steve ducked out of the tent after her. She was walking pretty fast. Steve had come to know that meant she was pissed off. “Peggy--I mean Agent Carter?” he called out to let her know he was behind her.

Peggy just kept walking. “Wait a sec--” He’d caught up enough to touch her shoulder, but wisely chose not to do so. “I feel like you’re mad at me,” Steve said, walking next to her and matching her pace.

“Really,” she said, fist clenched, obviously furious. “Whatever gave you that idea, Captain?”

“It’s not you, I swear to God,” Steve said, and that made her stop and turn to face him. Maybe it was the wrong way to talk to a dame, but he had to make her understand. He was crazy about her, but the list of things he’d do for Peggy didn’t include abandoning his best pal.

“No, I’d imagine it’s this...someone you had plans with the other night,” she said. “Those troop trains are miserable, you know,” she told him. “You’ll be getting everything you deserve if you choose to stay behind for her.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to say, because there was someone else, just...not anyone Peggy would ever guess. “I know you won’t believe me,” he told her with his best boy scout face. “There’s no other woman for me. I’m still waiting,” he paused. “For the right partner.”

Her expression softened a little. “I wish I could believe you.” She must have been through so much, Steve thought, to make her so bitter and distrusting. It seemed like more than just how she’d been treated in the military.

“I’ll make you believe,” he promised her. Whatever it took, however long it took. “Someday.”

She just looked at him, then, not quite scrutinizing him. Peggy seemed to be searching for something. Steve just stood up straight and did his best to radiate sincerity. “I’ll see you in London, Captain.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Ma’am.”

The plane took off just after dark. Steve gathered with a few others to watch it take off, nodding to her when Peggy glanced out the window at him briefly. Falsworth was there. Somehow he’d weaseled out of getting on the plane, too. Steve wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it wasn’t so bad having the guy around. On the other hand, he needed to keep his distance from Bucky. And if he was hoping to catch Bucky sleeping or something on the long trip over--

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky smiled at him. “You missed dinner.”

“What, you didn’t save me nothin’?” Steve asked, starting to meander back toward his tent. Bucky offered him the half-eaten apple he’d been working on. “Jerk.”

He laughed and pulled a sandwich out of his jacket pocket, putting it in Steve’s hand.

“Please tell me it’s not egg salad.”

“It’s not egg salad,” Bucky said. “Steve, seriously. Where they gonna get egg salad from out here?”

“I don’t know how they even get what they DO get,” Steve said, eyeing the sandwich dubiously.

“Go on,” Bucky told him. “I know you’re hungry. Don’t play like you’re that picky anymore.” Steve pulled a face but unwrapped the sandwich and ate it anyway.

The camp was nearly deserted now, the few men left hurrying around to pack up before the next troop arrived. “You know,” Steve said. “None of the tents near ours are occupied anymore.” 

Bucky looked at him, considering. “Falsworth is still here.”

“Falsworth knows what’s up with us,” Steve said, privately thinking,  _ if he hears us fucking, he’ll know even more how mine you are. _

“I don’t know, Steve,” Bucky hesitated.

“We don’t gotta do nothin, Buck,” Steve reassured him. “But if we do decide we want to…”

Bucky smiled at Steve, and it was strange, because his face was so handsome when he smiled, but somehow the smile didn’t quite reach Bucky’s eyes this time. “Why don’t we hang out with the guys for a while? There’s always later tonight.”

Steve nodded. He understood, even if his libido didn’t. “Okay, but…” They’d reached ‘home’, and he tugged Bucky into the tent for a second. “Just to hold me over…” Steve took Bucky’s face in his hands and kissed him, slowly, letting the passion build to a crescendo of need.  By the end, Bucky was kissing him back just as hard, his arms wrapped tightly around Steve, crushing their bodies together.

“Shit!” Steve said, when he came up for air.

Bucky chuckled. “It was your idea, Steve.” He glanced down, pointedly. “You need a minute?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, panting. “Unless you want the guys to get jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” Bucky asked. “What I got, or what you got?”

Steve sniggered, giving Bucky’s ass a good grope. “What you’re gonna get?” He was reaching, but Bucky’s smile said he didn’t mind.

He pressed up against Steve suggestively. “I don’t know, Steve. What’m I gonna get?”

Steve’s body was going haywire. The smell of Bucky so close to him was making Steve crazy, and his nerve endings sparked everywhere their bodies touched. “You know what,” he growled. And, honestly, if Bucky couldn’t feel it pressed against his thigh, something was wrong.

“Wait.” Bucky said, reaching out just to cover it with his hand. “This?”

What a time to flirt, Steve thought. He was five seconds away from throwing Bucky down right here.

“That’s the one,” Steve said, his voice hoarse with lust.

“I dunno, Steve,” Bucky teased. “Feels like we better do something about it.”

Steve was afraid to get his hopes up. “Buck, you don’t gotta--”

“I know,” Bucky said. “But if it’s what I’m gonna get...if it’s mine, then I oughtta take care of it, don’t you think?” As he spoke, he slid around Steve’s body until he was still pressed against him, but from behind. Steve barely-suppressed a needy whine. “Make sure the flap’s all the way shut, Steve,” Bucky said.

Steve quickly reached over and jerked it shut. They could get new ties and eyelets later.

“You’re kinda excited, huh?” Bucky said quietly, reaching around to gently stroke the bulge in Steve’s trousers.

“Buck.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t tease.”

Bucky gently bit Steve’s earlobe. “I’m not sure I can do that, Steve,” he murmured, rubbing with a little more pressure, but still leaving the fabric between his hand and Steve’s cock.

“God, Buck,” Steve panted. “I want you so bad.”

Bucky kissed Steve just under his jaw. “It’s something to look forward to, huh?” Bucky nuzzled the curve of his neck, fingers spidering up to the buttons of Steve’s fly.

Steve whimpered. He was already so far gone.

Bucky pressed slow kisses against Steve’s neck as he unfastened his pants, dipping fingers into his fly to draw out his erection. “Nnnn, Steve…”

It made his balls ache, how excited Steve’s dick seemed to get Bucky now. He supposed Bucky had always liked his johnson, but there was more to love these days. He groaned when Bucky’s hand started to move, leaning back against him, wanting the pressure. “Buck…”

Bucky reached down with his free hand to rearrange Steve’s ass so that he was pressed up against Steve just right. Steve made a strange sound, something he probably should have been embarrassed by, but couldn’t seem to give a damn about right now. Bucky didn’t make fun of him, he just rocked his hips against Steve’s ass and went on kissing him, nibbling the back of Steve’s neck.

“Oh God, Buck,” Steve gasped. “I’m gonna come!”

“What, already?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“Yeah!” And when Bucky gripped him firmly at the base and squeezed as he drew his grip back up, that was it.

“Jesus, Steve.” Bucky kept stroking until he was through, and all Steve could do was lean back against him, sweaty and panting.

“Oh God,” he said. “That was...you can do that to me any time.”

Bucky stood on tip-toe to kiss Steve on the cheek. “Messy,” he chided gently, going to get a towel. Steve noticed with some embarrassment that he had stained quite a few things in here. At least no one else would see the inside of this tent tonight. 

After stopping by the mess tent to beg a little more food, Steve and Bucky found their usual group sitting around one of the last campfires, all of them smoking up a storm. He watched Bucky carefully, seeing the look of craving on his face, but noting that he did not give in.  _ Good _ , Steve thought.

The seven of them sat around for hours just shooting the shit. Steve did his best to ignore the smoke, but it was difficult. What he couldn’t ignore was how Bucky smiled the longer they hung out. There was something about each of these guys that brought out a side of Bucky Steve hadn’t seen since he’d shipped out. He wanted to see more of it, and that meant these guys stayed. Steve would just have to figure out a way.

Finally, it was after midnight, and Steve decided he’d socialized enough for one night. Besides, it was hard to concentrate on guy talk with Bucky practically plastered to his side, starting to nod off. On the one hand, it was giving Steve ideas. On the other hand, his paternal instinct wanted to carry Bucky to bed and tuck him in for the night. Maybe he could do both?

Steve mimed a stretch and opened his mouth in an exaggerated yawn. “Well, guys, it’s been great,” he said. “But we gotta catch that train before dawn tomorrow. I’m thinking a little shut-eye is a good idea.” He glanced over at Bucky to make sure he was on board with this idea.

“Sleep is for wimps!” Bucky declared, wearing his old Brooklyn bravado like it wasn’t a mask. Steve missed that Bucky.

“That may be,” Falsworth chimed in. “And if so, I most definitely am one. Good night, chaps.” He stood to go.

Morita and Dernier made rude noises. “He’s the first to go. Think that means we have to do something to him in his sleep,” Jones said.

“Like what?” Dum Dum, who’d been nodding off, sat up quickly.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, gentlemen,” Falsworth said. “I do happen to sleep with a Colt close to hand.”

“Whoa, he threatened to shoot us!” Morita said. “Now we HAVE to do something to him.”

Steve and Bucky left them still arguing. Between the two of them, they weren’t worried about pranks. And, honestly, if any of them walked in on Steve and Bucky fooling around, Steve figured they deserved the shock they got.

“I thought sleep was for wimps,” Steve said to Bucky, who had left without a word when Steve had, in spite of seeming tired.

“It is,” Bucky said, grinning back at him. “You didn’t think we were actually going back to sleep, did you?”

“Well, I was hoping,” Steve admitted.

Bucky laughed and jogged ahead. Steve sped up, too, wondering if there would be a chase. But they didn’t have far to go. As soon as they reached the tent, Bucky started peeling out of his clothes. Steve took his lead from Bucky. “You’re not wasting any time,” he observed.

“You complaining?” Bucky asked, looking back at Steve with just his pants on.

“Hell no,” Steve said, striding over to him and taking Bucky in his arms for some enthusiastic kissing.

“Steve,” Bucky chuckled, pulling away. “How’d you get undressed so fast?” He was all the way down to his underwear and socks.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Steve said solemnly. Bucky ran to the cot and threw a pillow at his head. Unfortunately, Steve’s reflexes were too quick nowadays, and he caught it.

“C’mere, Steve,” Bucky said, holding out his arms, beckoning.

Steve wandered over, eager to get his hands on Bucky’s bare skin again. Bucky slid his hands up Steve’s arms, enjoying his bulging biceps and triceps while Steve ran his palms across Bucky’s chest, teasing his chest hair and gently pinching his nipples. “Steve!” Bucky admonished him.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve said, not really sorry.

“Turn around,” Bucky ordered, and Steve did. “Bend over.” Steve was liking this more and more. “Pants down.” Steve hurriedly tugged his shorts off. As soon as his ass was bare, Bucky cracked him a good one. Steve jumped a little, feeling his dick respond immediately.

“Oh, Buck, yeah!” Steve was eager for more. Bucky struck him again. “Nnn!” Steve reached out to brace himself on the edge of the cot. And Bucky kept going, switching off cheeks until Steve’s ass was red and stinging. None of it had deterred his erection.

“Was that good, Steve?” Bucky asked, but it had to be a rhetorical question, because Steve hadn’t been holding back his verbal appreciation. Bucky moved up behind him and pushed his groin against Steve’s ass again.

He groaned and pushed back, rubbing against Bucky a little. He wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t totally disinterested either. Bucky drew his hands up Steve’s ribs to his chest, groping his pecs and tracing circles around his nipples. “Oh God, Buck!” Steve was in heaven. “You’re so good to me.”

One hand stayed and the other one disappeared. Steve soon found out why when Bucky moved away just a little and slick fingers started teasing his ass. Steve knew not expect too much, but he was damn well going to enjoy what he could. “Oh, yeah, Buck. Ffff--yeah!” He pushed back against Bucky’s probing, gasping when the first finger slid in. “Oh, God!” Steve’s voice had been reduced to a furtive whisper. It felt so good.

“Bend over a little more, Steve.” He did, pushing his ass out. The hand that had been on Steve’s chest descended to tease his dick.

“Oh, fuck!” Steve closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the dual play. Bucky pushed a second finger inside him, and Steve hissed and rocked against the pressure. It was both good and bad at the same time. But more good.  _ Is this what it’s going to feel like? _ Steve wondered. Bucky stretched him, and he whimpered. Luckily Steve could take more pain than he used to be able to.

Then Bucky’s fingers were gone, and without preamble, he tucked the head of his cock up against Steve’s entrance. “Bucky!” Steve cried, excited and surprised. What had changed from last night? Steve didn’t have time to ask if Bucky was just doing this to please him, because he started to nudge Steve open, and he lost it for a time. Feeling Bucky’s dick from the inside was much different from having fingers inside him.

“Buck,” Steve panted. “You sure?”

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky replied immediately. “Shut up, and try to relax. You’re like a fucking vice grip right now.”

Steve breathed and focused, his cock throbbing as he felt Bucky push in a little deeper. “It’s like you’re a fucking virgin or something,” Bucky said.

Steve was distracted. He glanced over his shoulder. “I--I am--” and then he saw the smirk on Bucky’s face.

“What’re you sayin, Stevie?” Bucky teased him again, easing in a little more. “You’re lettin’ me take your virginity right now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve sighed, curling his toes. “Of course it’s you, Buck. There’s no other guy--” Steve was more relaxed now, and Bucky pushed in another inch, making him moan. “Besides,” he gasped. “Your first time was with me. It’s fair.”

Bucky stayed quiet, gripping Steve’s shaft almost as though he were using it for leverage. Steve gasped. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, he felt Bucky tight up against him. “Oh God, Buck!” This was nothing like what Steve had imagined.

“Okay, Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah...I think--”

And then Bucky gripped his ass and started thrusting. Slow at first, until it didn’t pull or burn, and then faster as Steve met his thrusts, pushing his hips back for more. “Oh, shit, Buck!” Steve panted. “That’s-!” He could feel Bucky shifting a little behind him, moving so that he was at a different angle to Steve’s body. And then all Steve saw were stars. He was hitting something inside of Steve that left him unable to do anything but gasp and make animal noises.

“That’s it, Stevie,” Bucky whispered in his ear. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Steve couldn’t reply in words, and his plight was helped not at all by Bucky stroking his balls and twisting his fist around the moist tip of Steve’s dick.

“Oh, Buck!” Steve shouted. And then loudly groaned his way through what had to be the most intense orgasm of his life. When he could breathe again, Steve opened his eyes to find he hadn’t come. How was that possible? “Bucky, what--?”

“I’m not done yet, Steve,” Bucky told him softly, tilting again so that he was hitting that special place inside of Steve, and Steve was off and gasping again. This time, Bucky expertly jerked him off so that Steve did come while he came--how confusing was that? He got major distance, too. Steve briefly considered being embarrassed, but this was Bucky. He didn’t have to be.  

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked. Steve’s nerve endings felt worn out. He couldn’t really tell if anything was hurting. Steve just sort of glanced back at Bucky, dazed. “I’ll take that as a no,” Bucky told him, kissing Steve’s shoulder before carefully pulling out.

“Stay,” Bucky told him, returning quickly with a damp cloth to wipe Steve clean. There were side effects Steve had not considered when picturing this scenario. When he was clean, Steve lay face-down on the bed of blankets he’d made on the floor, watching Bucky clean himself off before coming to sit with him.

“Buck, did you?” Steve asked.

“It doesn’t matter, Stevie.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Steve almost had enough of his brain back to get mad now. “You made me come. Twice. You at least should get to do once.” He reached out for Bucky, only to have his hand blocked.

“It’s fine, Steve.” Bucky lay down next to him. “Let’s just lie here together, okay?”

Steve didn’t say anything, though he wasn’t happy. He put his arms around Bucky protectively and laid his cheek against Bucky’s, slowly stroking his back. “Hey, you’re pretty good at sex, you know?” Steve said after a while.

“Thanks.” Bucky huffed a tired laugh, cupping Steve’s face and kissing him. “I’m glad your first time was good, Stevie.”

“Thank you.” And it suddenly hit Steve what Bucky had done. “Thank you, Buck. But you didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did,” Bucky said, kissing him gently. “Because I finally got you all to myself. I gotta claim my territory, too, you know.”

Steve’s fuzzy brain tried to ponder this. All to himself? But his mind kept sliding off it like water off an umbrella. “Buck, you can claim me any time,” Steve sighed, starting to drift off.

“I’ll hold you to that, Steve,” Bucky told him, kissing his cheek before gently biting his neck.

Steve chuckled, because it tickled a little. “What are you, a vampire?”

Bucky poked him in the ribs. “Says the guy who constantly bites me.”

Steve laughed, holding Bucky a little tighter. “‘Cause you taste good, Buck.”

“Oh really?” Bucky said. “Show me.”

Steve was suddenly  _ wide _ awake. “All right.” Steve started with the part of Bucky they’d been discussing, kissing his way down Bucky’s neck to his collarbones and chest. When he paused to lavish attention on Bucky’s nipples, it drew a whining complaint from Bucky. Steve felt his friend stirring against him, though, so he figured it couldn’t all be bad. He kissed and sucked until Bucky gave Steve’s shoulders a little push. Then he drew a line with his tongue down to Bucky’s navel where he stopped to nibble and tongue-fuck him a little.

“Steve!” Bucky laughed. “Cut it out!” Steve couldn’t help but grin. Bucky was so ticklish, even that could set him off. Then it was time for some serious nuzzling, where Steve teased Bucky’s hipbones and rubbed his stubbled cheeks against Bucky’s glory trail, pushing his thighs apart and stealing licks here and there.

“Mmm, Steve,” Bucky sighed, and Steve knew he had him, wrapping his fingers around Bucky’s cock while he mouthed and licked his sack. He was rewarded with more moaning and even a back-arch.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, slowly stroking him while he nibbled Bucky’s inner thigh. “After this, will you fuck me again?”

Bucky laughed. “You’re gonna be an ass-slut now, aren’t you, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted softly, pushing fingers against Bucky’s ass, making him slam his head back against the pillow.

“Steve!”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Steve said, painting his dick with the tip of his tongue. “I won’t do it.”

“But what if I want it?” Bucky asked.

“You still gotta heal,” Steve said, sliding one hand up Bucky’s waist and back down again. “But when you are…” Steve stopped to give Bucky the full effect of his hungry glare.

Bucky looked down at him and sighed. “Promise?”

“Aw, Buck.” Steve kissed his pelvis. “I’m gonna fuck you so much, you won’t be able to walk for days.”

Bucky burst out laughing. “What the fuck, Steve?” Then Steve started laughing, too. “You’re gonna fuck me into a wheelchair?”  

“Yup.” They were both giggling now.

“What the hell are you gonna tell Phillips? ‘Sorry, Barnes just forgot how to walk?’”

“Just for a few days,” Steve giggled.

“So, what? Then, after that, you won’t fuck me as hard?”

“No.” Steve was resting his cheek against Bucky’s hip, and he could barely hold in the laughter.

“So what you’re sayin’ is, basically, invest in a wheelchair once we’re in London?”

Steve burst out laughing again. “Yes!”

Bucky laughed, stroking Steve’s hair. “Stevie, get up here.”

“No,” Steve whined. “I wanna taste you.” He started licking Bucky again.

“Steve.”

“Okay,” Steve complained, crawling back up to tug Bucky close and kiss him.

“Mmm, Steve,” Bucky sighed, teasing his lips. “Can we just lie here naked forever?”

“Maybe.” Steve was honestly trying to think of a way that could happen.

“Turn around, Steve,” Bucky whispered in his ear, and Steve’s heart started to beat faster. “DON’T ask me am I sure again,” Bucky said before Steve could. So instead, he just squirmed around so that he was the little spoon.

Bucky didn’t spend as long prepping him this time, he basically just tucked fingers in to make sure Steve was lubed-up and then Steve felt the odd sensation of a familiar organ sliding into a new orifice.

“Oh, Buck!” Steve bit his fist, wanting to make a lot more noise but wisely realizing that would be a bad idea. He pushed his hips back to receive Bucky faster, whimpering as Bucky’s cock stretched him in the most shiver-inducing way. “Oh, fuck, Buck! Yes!”

“Why don’t you touch yourself, Steve?” Bucky purred in his ear, and Steve was happy to comply.

“Haa! Nnn!”

Bucky kissed his jaw and gently sucked a mark on Steve’s neck as he began to move. “I do love your ass,” Bucky admitted, giving Steve’s cheeks a squeeze.

Steve groaned. “My ass loves you, too, I think.” And Bucky laughed.

His gentle rocking was driving Steve crazy, his dick twitching for more. “Deeper, Buck,” Steve said, and Bucky gripped his hips and thrust harder.

Steve let go, reaching back to grip Bucky’s hips. Bucky chuckled, and it was a weird sensation with him up inside Steve. “You’re so bossy.” He gave Steve’s ass a pinch.

“It just feels good,” Steve whined, and Bucky kissed him, reaching around to stroke Steve’s cock while he thrust up inside him as deep as he could go. Steve dissolved into little pieces, moaning and eagerly meeting Bucky’s thrusts as he fucked the wet vice of his fist.

“Oh, Steve.” And Steve could hear that he was starting to enjoy it, too.

“Please, Buck,” Steve panted. “I want you to get off.”

Bucky bit his shoulder, which Steve interpreted as a nonverbal ‘shut up, Steve.’ He whimpered and groaned, pumping Steve’s ass faster, and Steve felt that pressure start to build in his insides.

“Oh God, Buck. Yeah! Yes!” He was gripping Bucky’s ass now, feeling the muscles flexing with his thrusts. Steve cried out, staining the bed and himself, still coming, the tide of sensation building with Bucky’s furtive thrusts. Then he heard Bucky make his nut sound, and felt warmth trickling down his inner thigh.

“Oh God, Buck,” Steve panted. “That was so hot.” He twisted around to hold Bucky and kiss him, still tingling with orgasm. “Fuck, that was good.”

Bucky smiled, stroking fingers through Steve’s sweaty hair. “You like that, Stevie?”

“Hell, yes!” Steve said, nuzzling Bucky’s cheek. “I love when you fuck me.” He growled happily. “Do it again.”

Bucky laughed, tired. “Steve, you’re so greedy. I gotta sleep, too, you know.”

“Sleep is for wimps,” Steve said, kissing Bucky teasingly.

“C’mere, wimp,” Bucky said, leaning forward to use Steve as a pillow.  

“Okay, but. Will you fuck me tomorrow?” Steve needed to know. His answer was very important.

“What, on the train?” Bucky chuckled.

“On the train, in the train, on top of the train, I don’t really care. Just say you’ll fuck me again.”

Bucky squeezed him tight, already half asleep. “I’ll do whatever you want, baby. Long as it’s safe.”

Steve felt a fluttering in his chest. Bucky had called him baby again without Steve having to ask. “Oh, Buck.” He kissed him again, even though Bucky was more than half asleep now.

“Steeeeeeeeve,” Bucky complained. “Sleeep.”

“I’m sorry, Buck, I just…” Steve couldn’t stop running his hands over Bucky’s bare skin. “I’m just excited.”

Bucky grinned sleepily, giving Steve one last kiss before settling against him. “You’re an adorable ass-slut, Stevie.”

“Yeah, but I’m yours,” Steve said, and Bucky fell asleep smiling. “And you’re mine,” Steve whispered, kissing Bucky good night. 


	21. The Unwilling Accomplice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after consequences. Macho posturing. An uncomfortable train ride. Sex in a public place. Macho truce is called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If having sex in a plane means joining The Mile High Club, what club do you join when you have sex on a train?
> 
> This chapter is rated Explicit and features:  
> Steve(POV)  
> Bucky(POV)  
> Dum Dum  
> Falsworth  
> Jones  
> Morita  
> Dernier (mentioned)

Steve had been so happy when he’d finally drifted off, holding Bucky close and stroking his back. The morning was another story. And it wasn’t really morning, Steve considered, because it was really only a couple of hours later when they had to wake up. 

Steve grunted in pain when he tried to get up. His ass felt sore and raw, and there was an unpleasant feeling of having to hit the latrines when he was pretty sure he didn’t have to. All the same, Steve hopped up and made a break for it, just in case, wincing with every step.

When he returned to the tent, Bucky was waiting for him, half-dressed. “Steve…” He stared at Steve, a little shocked, and he realized he’d just run through the camp buck naked. “At least Agent Carter isn’t here anymore.” Bucky sounded relieved.

Steve really wanted to laugh, or tease Bucky about being jealous, but he was just so uncomfortable. Bucky must have known from the look on his face. “Poor Stevie.” He came over to tug him into an apologetic hug. “I should have warned you about this part,” Bucky said. “I’m the worst.”

“So it’s normal?” Steve asked, his voice sounding higher than usual.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “There’s an...adjustment period. Your body doesn’t want stuff shoved up there.”

“Stupid body,” Steve grumbled, leaning his cheek against Bucky’s hair and taking what comfort he could from the hug.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Bucky said again, kissing Steve and stroking his hair.

Steve shrugged. “I’ll heal.” The hug must have worked--that, or it was Bucky calling him ‘baby’ again-- because, although Steve hurt, he really wanted to make out a little. As a general rule, the closer Bucky was to him, the better.

“Aw, Buck,” he sighed, enjoying the feel of skin on skin. Steve started to slide his palm down the curve of Bucky’s spine, slowly and possessively. He kissed him, gently at first, then deeper, harder.

“Steve,” Bucky laughed, pulling back. “You’re not dressed!”

“So?” he asked, holding Bucky close by placing his hand in the small of his friend’s back. Steve went back to kissing him, moving from his lips to his neck.

“Steve…” Bucky’s protest was weaker this time.

“Mornin’, Sarge!” Dugan bellowed outside the tent, giving them just enough time to jump apart before he burst in.

*

“Hey, Dum Dum.” Bucky smiled, tugging his shirt over his head.

“Whoa!” One could hardly not notice Steve’s bare ass when they walked in. “Put that thing away, Cap’n Steve! You’re makin’ me blush.”

“Congratulations, Steve,” Bucky said. “Making Dum Dum blush ain’t easy.” He turned back to Dugan. “Sorry about that, Corporal.”

Dum Dum merely shrugged. “Hey, it’s part of bein’ stuck around a bunch of other guys, right?”   

Bucky nodded, glancing over as Steve’s godly ass disappeared into a pair of khakis. He was going to regret going commando today. Bucky made a mental note to grab a pair of his shorts and keep them handy for when Steve inevitably started crying on the train.

“Anyway,” Dum Dum continued while Steve got dressed like nothing had ever happened here. “They’re waitin’ for us.”

“Wanna help with the duffles?” Bucky asked, buckling his belt.

“Sure.” Dum Dum grabbed both bags like they were pillows.

“I’m right behind you,” Bucky said, sitting to pull his boots on.

“Gotcha.”

Dugan left, and Bucky waited for him to get out of earshot. “That was close, Steve.”

“You heard him,” Steve said, pulling on his uniform jacket. “He thinks it’s just part of bein’ around other guys.”

Bucky pressed his lips together. “You can’t count on everyone being as dumb as...well.”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Steve reassured him. “I can be good.” He ruined his own point by coming over and wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist. “Not sure how I’m gonna SIT all damn day,” he leaned close to murmur, “but I can be good.”

Bucky immediately felt like hell again. “I should’ve said no the second time,” he fretted.

“The hell you should’ve,” Steve said. “Don’t you dare, Buck.” He put his other arm around Bucky. “I was just teasin’ you. And I’m gonna hold you to that promise.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but Steve silenced him with a kiss to the tip of his nose. Man, did he hate that. “IF it’s safe,” Steve repeated, before he could. 

“IF you feel better,” Bucky said, gently patting Steve’s ass before reluctantly pulling away. “C’mon, Stevie, or they’ll leave without us.”

“Like they would,” Steve said, grinning like he had every intention of pulling Bucky back into his arms.

Bucky just shook his head, tugging Steve out to the jeep where Dum Dum and a very cranky-looking Falsworth waited. Steve climbed in before Bucky could blink. Was he doing it again, getting jealous of Bucky’s friends? It was just sitting in a jeep for an hour. “Unbelievable,” Bucky muttered, following Steve and shutting the door behind them. Steve must have gotten the point, because he turned around to give Bucky puppy-eyes. Bucky rested his face in his hands. “Quit it, Steve.” He was a sucker for puppy-eyes.    

“Yes, Steve,” Falsworth echoed from the front. “Please do.”

Bucky’s head snapped up.  _ Oh no. _ He thought he might know why Monty was so cranky…

“Yeah, Steve!” Dugan piled on, having no idea what he was piling onto, the big, sweet goon. Bucky laughed softly, feeling helpless when Steve looked to him for an explanation. This was going to be an interesting fucking day.  

“I give up,” Steve declared. Then they were off, and Bucky felt almost as bad as Steve did the whole ride, because he knew he was the real cause for Steve’s discomfort, not all the bumps and dips in the road.

He was the first one out of the jeep when they reached the depot, actually climbing over the back and out before anyone else could move.  _ Poor Stevie _ . Bucky watched him go, angsting. He should have known this would happen. He should have considered the timing more carefully. But he’d felt so much pressure to give Steve what he wanted--he hated having to tell Steve no. And with Agent Carter gone, he’d wanted to catch and hold Steve’s attention like never before, remind him who it was that really loved him…

“What’s eatin’ him?” Dum Dum asked. 

“Uh. He probably needs the shitter.”  _ Or feels like he does, _ Bucky thought. 

“Better here than on the train,” Dugan said. “It’ll be bad enough, 30 of us in one car all the way down.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky agreed. Monty had already climbed out and was walking ahead of them. This was not good.

“Everything okay, Sarge?” Even Dum Dum could tell something was wrong.

“Not here,” Bucky said. “As for those two? Well...I think Steve ate some bad food last night.”

“Aw, man!” Dugan said. “Great timing!”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah…” He climbed out of the jeep. “Falsworth, though...I’d better talk to him. I think I may know what’s wrong there, but...You got the bags, Dum Dum?” 

“Sure thing, Sarge.”

Bucky jogged ahead, trying to catch up to Monty, whose  _ walk  _ was even cranky. “Uh, Lieutenant?” Bucky called after him. His pace slowed a little, though he didn’t turn around. That meant he wasn’t totally pissed, Bucky thought.

“Monty.” Bucky caught up to him, gripping his shoulder in a half-arm-around-the-shoulders compromise. If Steve saw him with his arm actually around the Englishman, he’d never hear the end of it. “Monty, I am so sorry.” Bucky dropped his voice so that no one close by could eavesdrop on their conversation.

“You’ve no reason to apologize, Sergeant.” Monty glanced over at him, blue eyes bloodshot. “YOU are clearly capable of keeping your voice down.”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Bucky was mortified. And it simultaneously made him curious if Steve had done this on purpose. That jealous--jealous, possessive...insecure … It was hard to be angry at Steve if he’d been trying to mark his territory last night, too. But it was still a shitty thing to do to Monty. “Damn. I owe you. I really owe you for this.”

“I don’t see that you owe me a thing.” Falsworth stopped and hesitantly raised his hand to rest on Bucky’s shoulder the way Bucky’s was resting on his. “A man with common sense would likely have moved to a different tent...I merely…” Oh god, where had HE learned puppy-eyes? They weren’t as compelling as Steve’s, but…

“Buck.” Steve was standing in front of them. And somehow Bucky hadn’t noticed him walk up. Falsworth started a bit, perhaps expecting to get clocked for touching Bucky in front of Steve, perhaps uncertain what to do when confronted with the object of his ire. Steve glanced back and forth from one to the other. “C’mon,” he told Bucky, impatiently. “Let’s go, before there’s no good seats left.”

He grabbed Bucky’s elbow and towed him along. It was possible Steve meant to tug him away from Falsworth, but Bucky grabbed Monty’s elbow and dragged him behind. “It’s three bunks in a stack,” he told Steve, who was lucky never to have traveled this way before. “I get the bottom.”

“‘Course you do.” Steve turned back to smile affectionately at him (and maybe drop an innuendo), but he practically snarled when he saw Monty was still there.

“We need a third, Steve,” Bucky explained. “Trust me, you don’t wanna sleep underneath Dum Dum. His farts can kill.”

“I wouldn’t mind volunteering for the top bunk,” Falsworth added, trying to be helpful and unobtrusive. That would put him a safe distance from Bucky, and with Steve in between to be as jealous as he wanted, Bucky thought. He was being smart. But he wasn’t sure Steve would see it that way.

“Steve.” Bucky gripped and squeezed his forearm, because of course Steve hadn’t been dragging him by the hand. “Look at me.” Steve turned around with an angry glare.

“I’ll just go on and save us a tier, shall I?” Monty said, carefully circling around Steve so that he was never in arm’s reach as he passed. Bucky pulled Steve aside, leaning close so only Steve could hear him.

“You gotta stop this, Stevie.”

“Why?” Steve snapped. “So’s he can share a triple-bunk with us? Maybe climb in with you when I’m asleep?”

“Steve!” Bucky caught his eyes and stared at him until Steve started to calm down. “We owe Monty. Be nice.”

“For what?” Steve sneered.

“For keeping him up all last night with our loud fucking.”

“Oh.” Steve unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk.

“Steve!” Bucky poked him accusingly. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Steve shrugged, nonchalant. “Hey, you were the one fuckin’ me. I can’t help if it was damn good.”

“Steve! Seriously. Give the poor guy a break. He could’ve easily told on us.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped a little. “You’re right, Buck. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me, tell him.”

Steve looked at him like ‘the hell I will.’ Bucky stared him down. “All right, fine.”

“Thank you.”

Steve just stared at him. “Buck, I want you so bad. Right now.”

It was kind of scary how just that look could send shivers up his spine. “Steve.” Bucky closed his eyes, trying to get his head together. “You’re just bein’ possessive.”

“I can’t help it,” Steve said. “You’re mine.”

Bucky bit his lip, wondering if they had time to fuck under the train before it got rolling. He shook his head. No. Damn, what was he thinking? “Steve.”

“I can tell it’s working,” Steve leaned closer to whisper.

“For the love of Jesus, please stop. We gotta get on this train with all the other guys and then some.”

“But remember your promise, Buck.”

“Don’t touch me like that where other people can see, Steve!”

And Steve was chuckling, because he could tell how turned on, how tempted Bucky was. “C’mon, pal. Let’s claim some beds.”

“Fucking punk.”

“Sexy-ass jerk.”

Finally, they found the second to last car where Monty had saved a row of bunks for them. Bucky was happy to see Jim, Jacques, Gabe, and even Dum Dum (in spite of the danger of flatulence) were in the same car. There would be plenty of guys to talk to, and hopefully distract Steve from his single-minded purpose of seducing Bucky on the trip to Naples.

“Over here, chaps!” Monty called out, unnecessarily. When he and Steve walked over, Monty wisely rose from where he’d been sitting on the bottom bunk and took a seat next to Gabe on the next bunk over.

“Don’t worry, Monty,” Gabe told him with a mocking grin. “I’ll protect you.” Falsworth crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Fortunately Dernier wasn’t there to offer the French commentary. He’d joined the long queue for the bathroom.

“What the heck?” Steve said, glancing over at the line. There was one on each end of the train, one for each toilet.

“These guys ain’t seen a honest-to-god toilet since they were sent to the front,” Morita explained. “Trust me, that’s pretty fucking exciting after 6 months of shitting into a hole in the ground.”

“An’ if you get in first,” Dum Dum added, “you don’t get the smell so bad.”

Steve made a face. He had no idea how good he’d had it on his little Captain America tour. But Bucky was glad he hadn’t had to experience all the bad stuff. He watched Steve shift back and forth on the bunk. “Why don’t you lie down, Stevie? It’s a long trip, and you didn’t get much shut-eye last night.”

“What, on your bunk?” Steve smirked suggestively. Bucky did his best to stare him down. Openly flirting in front of their comrades was social suicide. Why didn’t Steve get that?

“Sure,” Bucky said. “I wanna stay up and play cards with the guys for a while.” Steve gave him a puppy look, the one that meant ‘Come with me.’ He sighed. How brick shit-house Steve had retained his small Steve’s pathetic wheedling expressions was beyond Bucky. “I promise, I’ll be right here in case you have a nightmare or somethin’.”

“Awww, I’ll read you a bedtime story,” Jim volunteered.

“Want me to tuck you in, Cap’n Steve?” Dum Dum asked.

“Sure I can come up with a glass of warm milk for you somehow…” Gabe threatened.

“You guys are hilarious,” Steve told them with narrowed eyes. He glanced back at Bucky, the unspoken exchange being something to do with promising to protect Steve from the guys’ pranks while he was sleeping. Bucky actually thought it would do Steve some good in the men’s eyes to get hazed a little, but he also knew how big of a baby Steve was; that he probably couldn’t take it. He patted Steve’s shoulder reassuringly as his best friend crawled onto the bunk behind him and lay down, curling up so that his back was pressed against Bucky’s.  _ Oh, Steve. _ But he secretly didn’t mind that Steve had to constantly be touching him.  

They made the time pass as pleasantly as possible, considering they were 30 guys shoved into a box with two toilets and too few windows. Bucky lost at poker and Dum Dum fouled up the bathroom and got most of the pillows in the car thrown at him. He made himself a little nest out of them and sprawled defiantly in the middle of the car.

At some point, Steve started to snore. Bucky was surprised, because he’d always assumed Stevie’s snoring was due to his sinusitis, which he didn’t have anymore. If he’d been snoring since they’d reunited, Bucky hadn’t noticed. Either they hadn’t slept together, or he’d always fallen asleep first, and Bucky was so used to sleeping with a snoring Steve that he’d long ago learned to tune it out. He glanced around at the other guys, uncertain whether he should apologize for Steve or not.

“Holy crap,” Morita observed. “That guy can saw some logs.”

“He’s always been like this,” Bucky admitted. “Even when he was small.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Gabe said. “You told us your best friend was this little wimpy kid.”

“I never said that.”

“Okay, you said little, but the ‘wimpy’ was kind of implied.”

“You never saw Steve fight before,” Bucky said. He’d been like a tiger. A small, not-very-coordinated tiger.

“But he still got beat up, right?” Gabe asked, already knowing the answer.

“Sometimes,” Bucky admitted, doing his best to downplay it.

“Probably all the time,” Jim said. When Bucky looked at him, he added, “Hey, I was a little guy, too. My grampa had to teach me aikido before I could hold my own.”

“What’s i-key-dough?” Dum Dum asked.

“It’s a special kind of pastry dough,” Morita told him, straight-faced, without skipping a beat.

“Come on, Jim,” Bucky said. Picking on Dum Dum was like shooting fish in a barrell. There was no honor in it.

“Ah, I’ve read a bit about that,” Monty said. “The suffix  _ -do _ in Japanese denotes some art or school of thought, I believe,” he explained for Dum Dum’s benefit. “In this case, it refers to a particular martial arts practice. Is your grandfather a master of aikido?” he asked Morita.

He snorted. “Nah. But he could definitely hold his own in a bar fight!” That got them started on the subject of bar fights, to which each of them felt obligated to contribute a tall tale or two.  

After a couple hours of that, Monty told the story of when his rugby club had whipped some prep school called Eton in the last seconds of the game. It put everyone to sleep except Bucky and Falsworth himself, and Bucky was darn close by the end. “Sorry, Monty,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t get as much sleep as I probably should have, either.”

“Yes, I recall,” Monty said, drily, and Bucky felt like crap all over again.

“I’m really sorry,” Bucky said. “Again.”

Monty looked thoughtful and sighed. “I suppose I should do the same as our captain, if ever I were given such an opportunity.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to take that. Was he coming onto him? Or just expressing the desire for a soldier lover? From the wistful way he was staring at Bucky, it was the former. Bucky smiled, embarrassed. “You’re too much, Monty.”

“A brief respite does sound appealing, come to think on it,” Falsworth said, eyeing his bed two bunks up.

“You need a boost?” Bucky asked. Falsworth shook his head. He slipped off his boots and then leapt, nimble as a monkey, from Steve’s to Gabe’s to his own bunk. Bucky hadn’t realized how agile Monty was before. He leaned out to look up at the Englishman. “Wow.”

Monty’s eyes twinkled, and he offered Bucky a small smile before disappearing behind the top bunk. Then Bucky was alone.

He noticed Steve had stopped snoring, and turned from force of long habit to check that he was still breathing. He nearly fell off the bunk when he found Steve lying there, staring at him. Bucky was about to chide him for scaring him, but Steve reached up and put a finger to his lips. He pointed toward the bathroom and mouthed  _ Two minutes _ .

“Steve--”

Steve yanked him down for a kiss, and Bucky pushed away, hurriedly, glancing around to make sure no one had seen. Steve sat up next to him, rubbing little circles in the small of his back. Part of Bucky wanted to squirm away. This was NOT the place. The rest of him was kind of glad Steve was awake now. Then Steve stood, his fingers trailing along Bucky’s thigh in the process. The backward glance he cast Bucky before disappearing inside the bathroom was deadly.

_ Oh shit, _ Bucky thought.  _ What have I gotten myself into this time?  _ But he had promised. And the coast looked to be pretty clear. Most of the men were sleeping, and neither of the bathrooms had a line now. He sat on the bunk, debating the sanity of doing this for the requisite two minutes. But it didn’t seem to have been a real debate, because Bucky stood and headed for the door at the end of the car without a second thought once it was time.

Was that nerves he felt, or just excitement? Was it terrifying to think of making it with Steve when there was a large audience of soldiers within earshot, who might possibly bust in on them? Or was it hot? Bucky had certainly done it with girls in places more dangerous than this. But having sex with girls was never dangerous in the same way this was.

*

There was a gentle knock at the door, and Steve opened it a crack, just to make sure it was really Bucky. Then he dragged him inside, slamming him back against the door.He trapped Bucky between the door and his body, moving in to devour his mouth. “Oh, Buck,” Steve whispered, his hands swiftly untucking Bucky’s shirt so he could slide them up his back.

“Steve.” Bucky shivered. Steve was close to crazy, feeling his friend’s dick already hard, pressing against his thigh. “I don’t think we can do this,” Bucky protested between kisses.

“No,” Steve agreed. “You fuck me so good, I get loud. I can’t help it.” He raised Bucky’s shirt high enough to lick his nipples.

“Steve!” Bucky gasped.

“Oh God, Buck,” Steve panted. “I just wanna touch you.” He unbuckled his friend’s belt and started to unfasten his trousers.

“What about me?” Bucky whispered. “What do I get?”

“A bj,” Steve said, dropping to his knees and going to town. Bucky clenched and did his best to stay quiet, but he was past saying no, Steve knew.

He sucked him off for as long as he could stand to wait and then stood, picking up Bucky in the process.

“Steve, what the--?”

“Shh.” Excitement had driven Bucky above a whisper. “I gotta fuck you, Buck,” Steve told him. “Right now.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Here?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, holding Bucky up with one arm wrapped around his waist while he freed his throbbing erection with the other. “Oh God, Buck.” Steve thrust between his thighs, and Bucky understood, squeezing them together.

“Soap, Steve,” he said, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders for balance. Steve backed up just long enough to grab some, then he was pulling out to lather up before slicking Bucky’s inner thighs.

Steve groaned, thrusting back between them. “Bucky!”

“Shh, Steve.” Bucky kissed him, reaching down to unbutton Steve’s jacket and lift up his shirt so that he could grind against those hard abs. Bucky tried to swallow a whimper. Steve’s skin was literally hot.

“Oh, Buck!” Steve whispered. “I can feel your cock rubbin’ against me...so dirty!” He loved when Bucky was so horny he just started grinding on Steve.

“Fuck you,” Bucky said. “Shoving your big thing between my thighs.”

Steve grunted. “Un... Yeah, Buck! More.”

“I know you want me as much as I want you,” Bucky whispered. “Your thick, hard cock just aching to be inside me.”

“Yeah, Buck!” Steve groaned, and Bucky had to cover his lips with his fingers to remind him to keep it down. “Baby, I wanna fuck you so bad.” Steve’s furtive whisper was accompanied by an increase in pace. “Yeah, Buck!” Because he was imagining doing it now. “Oh, fuck!” What it would feel like to push his new, bigger dick into Bucky’s tight ass. His new equipment, where every touch seemed amplified by a thousand.

Bucky whined. “Come for me, Stevie. Hurry, baby, hurry!” Steve gripped his hips and thrust faster, burying his face in Bucky’s neck in an attempt to muffle his whimpering.

“Oh, Buck, you feel so good!” Steve reached down to jerk him off, enjoying the feel of Bucky’s shaft in his hand.

“I’m close…”

“Oh, Steve...I can’t wait to fuck you when we get back to London!”

“Oh God, Buck...Oh God!” He wasn’t sure if it was the way Bucky whined his name or how he was somehow both groping and rubbing Steve’s chest, but he cried out and came...getting at least as much jizz on the door as Bucky’s thighs.

Then Steve leaned him back against the edge of the sink and bobbed eagerly on his dick, stealing some soap lather from Bucky’s thighs to push his thumb inside him. “Steve!” His hips jerked, and it was over, simple as that. Bucky really did want to get fucked, Steve thought. Too bad they couldn’t do it here.

They stared at each other, panting and sweaty, Bucky looking scared, Steve considering another round. He licked his lips, thoughtful.

“No, I don’t understand why he’s been in there so long.” They both froze when they heard Falsworth’s voice from outside the door. “I agree, but I think he might’ve eaten a bad bit of egg this morning.”

“Shit.” Bucky started to tug Steve’s shirt and jacket back into place, and Steve let him down, using toilet paper to wipe soap and come off of Bucky’s thighs.  

“I shouldn’t wait if I were you,” the lieutenant was saying. “It will likely smell a foul business when he’s through.”

It was hard to dress hurriedly and silently, but they did their best. Bucky scrubbed the door clean as Steve combed fingers through his hair, trying to make it look less-mussed.

“I say, Rogers, are you alright in there?”

Steve wasn’t really sure how to do this, but they were as ready as they were gonna get. “Uh...yeah,” he called. “Gimme a minute.” He looked at Bucky, who shrugged.

“Just go out,” Bucky whispered. “If there’s a line, tell ‘em the toilet’s broken. Then come get me when the coast is clear.”

He moved behind the door so that Steve could open it a crack and check out the situation. It was just Falsworth. “What, you gotta go real bad or somethin’?” Steve asked him, not a little threateningly. He felt Bucky gently swat his ass. Bucky really should’ve known by now that wasn’t a deterrent.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lieutenant replied smoothly. “If you’re quite finished…”

Steve apparently wasn’t moving fast enough for Bucky, who all but booted him out the door. “Uh...I guess so, yeah,” Steve said.

“Stay there and block the view of the door,” Falsworth whispered as he slid past Steve into the bathroom. With Bucky.

Steve couldn’t help the scowl. He did block the view of the door from the car, though, glancing around for anyone looking their way. He didn’t even hear the door open and shut, but suddenly Bucky was behind him.

“Jeez, Steve, you took so long, I thought I’d have to hang it out the window.”

“You might still,” Steve said, too amused by this mental image. “Trust me, you don’t wanna go in there.”

“Jesus. Maybe I’ll have you trade bunks with Dum Dum.” As he passed Steve, Bucky whispered, “We owe him.”

Even Steve had to reluctantly admit that they did. Without Falsworth’s intervention, the guy he’d dissuaded could’ve caught them in the act. But why did he do it? It wasn’t as a favor to Steve, that was for sure. The guy had been glaring daggers at him all day. Did his feelings for Bucky include doing something nice that would benefit Steve, too? Steve hated to think Falsworth might be the bigger man.

Back at the bottom bunk, it was Bucky’s turn to lie down. Steve sat on the edge in the middle. His ass hardly hurt anymore. He reached back like he was leaning on one hand, but used the gesture to take Bucky’s under the blanket. Bucky curled up, resting his cheek against the back of Steve’s hand, and Steve looked down at him, momentarily overcome by all of his Bucky-feelings.

Falsworth came back while he was still watching Bucky sleep. “Thanks,” Steve said.

“That wasn’t for your benefit,” the lieutenant replied tersely, his eyes immediately going to Bucky.  

“I know,” Steve told him. “But, still. Thanks.”

“Well, you’re welcome, I suppose.” To say the least, he was reluctant to accept the olive branch.

Steve smiled. Seemed like Falsworth wasn’t so perfect after all. “Wanna have a seat?” Steve asked.

Falsworth looked at him, trying to discern if it was a trick. “I promise he doesn’t bite,” Steve said.

“Well…” The lure of sitting so close to sleeping Bucky seemed impossible for him to resist. Steve knew the feeling. Falsworth sidled up slowly, then sat down with just half his ass, hesitating. He glanced at Bucky, then back at Steve, before sliding his whole ass onto the bunk.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot,” Steve said. “Let’s start over.” He extended his hand toward the Englishman. “Hi. I’m Steve Rogers.” 


	22. Misery and Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is surprised to learn his new body can still get sick. Traveling by sea is hellish, but Steve and Bucky have each other. Bucky likes to watch. They make some surprising new friends. Falsworth gets lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Explicit and features:  
> Steve(POV)  
> Bucky(POV)  
> Falsworth  
> Dum Dum  
> and the other Howling Commandos (mentioned)
> 
> Here, have some gay OCs.

Bucky slept for most of the rest of the train ride. It wasn’t long, but Steve’s hand went numb about an hour in. No way in hell was he gonna take his hand back, though, and a) stop secretly holding Bucky’s hand b) take away Bucky’s pillow--he needed his rest or c) risk getting caught holding hands with Bucky by the other guys. Well, Falsworth knew, but Falsworth was clearly an accomplice, whether he wanted to be or not. 

The two of them chatted amicably for a while, sharing things like family and hobbies. It turned out both of Monty’s parents were dead, too, and he one-upped Steve in the tragedy department; he’d also had a younger brother who’d died when they were kids. The things you learned about people when you took the time to get to know them. Steve knew Bucky would have said ‘I told you so,’ so he was just as glad his best pal was asleep.

“You’re an artist?” Monty looked surprised. Steve wished he could show him some of his sketches, but there was that problem of moving away from Bucky, and he had no idea what Dum Dum had done with their bags.

“I mean,” Steve said. “I do okay. I’m not sure it’s something I could ever make a living at.”

“Well, few ever do,” Falsworth said, discouragingly. But Steve couldn’t be annoyed. He’d always known he was going to have to get a regular Joe job eventually. At least now that he was big, he could get hired.

“So. Horses, huh?”

“It’s more of a sport, I suppose, though I do get quite attached.”

“But that’s normal, right? I mean, they’re kind of like pets...right? Aren’t horses smart?”

“Quite so,” Falsworth said. “In fact, I’d just started to collect Arabians before the war…” Steve listened while he went on and on about the size of different breed’s brains and what each horse was good for. It was boring and a little weird, but harmless. And really, the more boring Monty showed himself to be, the less threatened Steve felt by him. Bucky’d never throw him off for a boring best friend like Falsworth.

Steve was hoping they’d have some down time between getting to Naples and having to board the ship, but there was no such luck. Apparently, they were the last troops the ship was waiting on before setting sail. On the advice of everyone, Steve used the train’s toilet one last time before going aboard the floating sardine can.

He wasn’t sure how they fit so many guys on board. It was worse when they set off, because everyone wanted to be on deck and watch Italy recede into the distance. There wasn’t even elbow room. Steve had to keep shoving guys to keep them from jostling Bucky. Finally, they just gave up, and Bucky huddled right up against Steve, which part he didn’t mind at all. Having Gabe halfway up his ass was an added bonus he could have done without, though.

Steve didn’t understand what the big deal was for all the trouble; it was dark outside, and he couldn’t see much apart from the lights on the shore. “Breathe deep, Stevie,” Bucky told him. “This might be the last fresh air we get for a while.” Steve wasn’t sure what that meant, but if Bucky thought it was important, he was going to do it.

The rain started when they were only a few miles out, and then Steve learned why everyone had crowded on deck first thing. The hold was rank with too-familiar smells of human waste mixed with smells Steve had never met in all of New York City, and hoped to never come across again. He found himself wishing for his sinusitis back. This would have been a great time not to have a bloodhound’s sense of smell.

There was no ventilation to escape from it, and yet somehow there was always a draft. That part didn’t bother Steve, but Bucky’s teeth were chattering, and he finally gave up all pretense of not wanting to hold him close and just did it. The other guys were huddled together, too, not that there was a lot of space for any of them to have to themselves if they’d wanted it.  

The bunks were the worst. Steve thought the train had been bad, but these were five to a tier, with hardly room enough for a man to fit between his own bunk and the guy above. Forget it if you were a big guy like Steve or Dum Dum. And if that didn’t make you feel claustrophobic enough, there was a guy sleeping right next to you in another bunk, no matter which level you chose. This was a silver lining, to Steve’s eye, though. He tried to convince Bucky to go for the top bunk with him. If it were only the two of them up there between the bunks and the ceiling, no one could see what they were up to. Well, no one except the two other top bunk guys five feet over on either side.

It turned out to be a moot point, though, because Bucky wouldn’t go near any of the bunks. The space was way too small for him. Steve was afraid he was going to climb out of his skin just looking at them. “Hey.” Steve gave him a little squeeze. “We can sleep on the floor if we gotta.” He might have worried about rats on the floor, but there was frankly no room for rats between all the guys and their bags.

Then the storm started, and Steve learned something really interesting about his new body: it could still get seasick. He’d had some trouble on the passenger ship he and the girls had traveled on with the show on the way over, but that was like traveling in a cozy hotel room--which Steve had all to himself--compared to this.

Steve spent the rest of the day puking his guts up and holding on to Bucky for dear life. The other guys actually moved off after Steve’s second fit of vomiting triggered Dum Dum to do the same. What room they could give Steve and Bucky, they did gladly.

It must have been disgusting, Steve mused later, but Bucky stayed with him the whole time, wiping Steve’s face and making sure he kept drinking water, stroking his hair when Steve would inevitably collapse with his head pillowed in Bucky’s lap. And all he could do was moan and whimper, curl into a ball and pray for death. It was just as bad as Steve used to feel when he was really sick, only his new body wasn’t supposed to get sick anymore.

*

Bucky leaned against the wall, Steve’s face pressed against his thigh, his arms wrapped tightly around Bucky as he whimpered, miserable. He experienced a weird moment of deja vu, because all of this had happened before, only with a different Steve. The way Steve would curl into a ball, the exact pitch of his whining. But this wasn’t his little Steve. But it was.

Bucky stroked his hair. He’d hoped Steve would never have to experience something like this again, but in a strange way, Bucky was sort of glad. Not because Steve was suffering, but because he really needed Bucky at times like this. Bucky rubbed Steve’s back, feeling like a terrible friend.

He brushed fingers through Steve’s hair to pull the sweaty strands off his forehead and rubbed Steve’s shoulders. No, it wasn’t the way two guy-pals dealt with a sea voyage on a troop transport. Bucky’s eyes dared anyone to say it, though. He was ready to fight. But there were no takers. Steve’s seemingly endless stream of vomit had driven away their usual friends, along with most other guys who had a sense of smell. Which was saying something. It was foul enough down here. “Poor Stevie.”

“Buck, make it stop,” Steve whined.

“You won’t be seasick the whole trip.” At least, the odds were against it. Seven more days of this? No thank you. It was probably just the storm. The ship’s rolling was having an effect on all of them, just some more than others. Bucky could see some guys right now, curled up in their beds without a pal to rub their back. “Try to sleep, Stevie. You want me to grab you a pillow?”

“You’re my pillow,” Steve mumbled, squeezing him more tightly. It was hard to argue with logic like that.

“Want me to sing to you?” It was the ultimate sacrifice, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d wound up singing to Steve when he was feeling sick as hell.

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice sounded extra pathetic, and Bucky stroked his cheek with his thumb.

“Whaddayou want me to sing?”

There was a pause. For some reason, Bucky thought Steve might actually be considering. “Danny Boy.”

“Fuck you, asshole; I thought you were sick.” Steve was giggling. Just like he used to when he’d tease Bucky like this. Bucky made like he was going to push Steve away, and that’s when the whining started again.

“Buck, no, I was just jokin’.”

“You better have been.” More giggling. Steve knew his history with that hated tune, and how loathe Bucky was to sing it. And yet, it was inevitably the song people would request from him on those rare occasions when Bucky had been coerced into singing in public.

“Sing whatever you want,” Steve said, burrowing into Bucky’s abs to get comfortable.

“All right, Stevie.” It wasn’t a performance, right? So Bucky just sang him bits and pieces of tunes, lullabies and soothing slow songs, sometimes just melodies without words, as softly as he could. He knew Steve could hear him with his new ears, and there was no reason to attract attention.

After a while, he could tell Steve had drifted off, so he stopped. And looked up to find they were surrounded. The cots on either side were full of guys leaning in to listen, and even the edges between had filled up. Bucky looked around, feeling mortified, and waited for the jokes to start.

“That was real nice, Barnes.”

“--reminded me of my ma.”

“Where’d you learn to sing like that?” Bucky put a finger to his lips. He didn’t need Steve waking up when he’d just fallen back to sleep.

“In hell,” he whispered. “Get the heck outta here, all of yous.” There was some chuckling and a few jovial bird-flippings, and then everyone went back to normal. Some stayed in their bunks to sleep the storm out, others went back to their card games, or upstairs to try for a smoke in the rain and piss off the sailors.

Bucky leaned back against the wall and tried to sleep. Metal didn’t make the best pillow. He saw a pair of boots approaching and looked up. It was Monty. He gestured for Bucky to lean forward, so he did, and suddenly there was a pillow tucked behind his head. Then the Englishman knelt down and draped a blanket around Bucky in such a way as to not smother Steve. “Thanks, Monty,” Bucky whispered. He just touched Bucky’s hair and went back to his bunk.  _ Yeah, _ Bucky thought.  _ In a different world, I might fall for a guy like that.  _ He stroked Steve’s hair, catching a few winks here and there. But he would be happy when this trip was over.

The next day, Steve was feeling better. Well, it was relative. He wasn’t puking anymore, which was a huge improvement. Bucky made sure he ate, and then helped Steve to the bunk which, sure enough, was the top one. He told himself it was only 8 feet up, and then climbed up after Steve. Maybe being horizontal would help him sleep, he thought. The claustrophobic feeling of being down here was ten times worse than it had been on his trip over. He’d never even heard of Hydra four months ago.

The two bunks were much closer to cots or hammocks than beds. Steve piled their pillows and some blankets on the metal bar between them so that he could sneak across and pull Bucky close. The guys below had to suspect something, being able to see every movement above them in the canvas ‘mattresses’. But right now, those bunks were empty, their occupants having sought entertainment elsewhere. Bucky was a little worried, until he felt Steve curl up around him like he used to do when they were kids.

*

They spent the next two days pretty much in that position, apart from brief breaks for meals and to use the toilet.

Day four saw Steve’s seasickness pretty much under control. He still hated being on the ship, surrounded by the smell and in a constant state of discomfort, but that just seemed to be the way things were here. Now the storm had passed, he went above-decks with Bucky as much as possible, seeing the effect the cramped space was having on his friend.

It was pretty cold on deck, but Steve made sure Buck was wearing as many layers as they had, and then stood close enough to keep him a little more warm. Their proximity wasn’t conspicuous here. With so many men in such a small space, it was unusual NOT to be standing right next to some guy. In fact, Steve kept having to check himself when men he didn’t know came too close. It was a New York thing.

Fortunately, they had some pretty great guys surrounding them, too. The rest of the group Bucky had started to call ‘the maleficent seven’ were with them almost constantly. They gave Steve hell for how sick he’d been the first couple days, taking turns doing impressions of his projectile vomiting. It was weird having other guy friends, but kind of nice, Steve decided.

For so long it had just been him and Bucky, or him and Bucky and his sisters. Or him and the chorus girls in the show, who’d adopted Steve soon after rehearsals had started. This was an odd feeling. Something new. He smiled to himself. Maybe this was what it had been like for his dad, in the good times. He hoped there had been some good times for his dad in the last war.  

Having the other five of their seven in the same bunk-stack as them was convenient, too. Loud as Dum Dum snored, he drowned out the pillow talk Steve liked to have with Bucky. And if Dum Dum was asleep, Falsworth could keep their secret if Steve wanted to do a little making out late at night. The guys in the third bunk down never knew the difference, so long as it was nothing hot and heavy.

One night, Steve accidentally made eye contact with another top-bunker across the way as he was opening Bucky’s fly. The guy just saluted, turning to spoon his naked bunk-mate and give him some reach-around. Steve was surprised that they weren’t the only two guys hooking up on the ship, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been. This many guys in this small space for this length of time… He tapped Bucky on the shoulder and pointed over at the other two.

“Steve, that’s...that’s rude!” Bucky whispered. But he was staring at them and couldn’t seem to stop. Steve smirked. Bucky liked to watch? That was good to know, though Steve wasn’t sure how exactly he’d use that information in the future. It’s not like he was about to share. Steve didn’t feel remotely threatened by the soldiers across the way, though. So he let Bucky watch them go at it while he sucked him off and fingered him a little.

Afterward, Steve slithered up to lie down next to Bucky. “I am gonna fuck you so hard when we get to London,” Steve whispered for the umpteenth time.

Bucky’s face was flushed from just having come in his mouth. “I hope so,” he said, biting his lip for a second before kissing Steve enthusiastically. Man, did it stink being limited space and privacy-wise here.

The next night, Bucky was cleaning his kitchen and jerking him off when Steve noticed they were being watched. He nodded, awkwardly, at the guys across the way and tugged the sheet up to his waist. The smaller guy, the one who’d been getting spooned last time, smiled and gave Steve a thumbs-up, which made Steve feel more shy than worried he and Bucky had been caught. Then the guy climbed on top of his friend and they did 69 like Steve wasn’t even there. He couldn’t blame Bucky, really, it was kind of hot to watch.

“Man, I wanna fuck you,” Bucky whispered, moving up behind Steve.

“Please?”

“No.” He kissed Steve’s neck apologetically. “We’d rock this whole bunk-frame and wake everybody up.” He sucked Steve’s earlobe. “Not to mention how loud you get.”

Steve snickered, pointing at their friends across the way. “Oh, damn,” Bucky said. “What the hell?” Steve turned around to finish Bucky while he watched, whispering filthy nothings in his ear, all the things he was going to do to him once they had a space to themselves again. It was a good thing Dum Dum’s snores were thunderous, because Bucky cried out when he shot his load across Steve’s navel. Maybe it was the dirty talk, maybe it was the show in the next bunk over. Steve wasn’t sure, but he was happy Bucky could relax enough to get off in spite of his claustrophobia.

*

Bucky wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact he’d given in and watched the two guys on the other top bunks going at it two nights now, or running into them in the mess. He hung his head, mortified, and tried to move on, but Steve hauled him back, greeting the other two with a friendly smile. Neither of them looked embarrassed. Bucky envied them.

“You look familiar somehow,” Steve said, with a top secret forehead crinkle message. “I think we might’ve met before.”

The bigger one with the sexy smirk stuck out his hand. “Allen. This here’s Dubov.”

“Call me Johnny,” the smaller one said, smiling brightly and checking Steve out in a thorough way Bucky really couldn’t blame him for but didn’t love. He took Steve’s hand when Allen was done shaking it, smiling brightly as he pumped Steve’s arm. “And this is Max.”

“Pleased to meetcha,” Steve said. “I’m Steve, and this here’s Bucky.”

“Bucky?” There was something sexy about the way Max’s eyebrows quirked. “How’s a grade A piece of--” Johnny elbowed him, giving Max a furtive look that must have been a plea for discretion. “--soldier like you end up with a kid’s name like Bucky?”

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Bucky explained, having had conversations similar to this many times before--though never with a guy who was flirting with him.

“Oh, he talks, too,” Max said. If Steve could learn to grin like that, Bucky might never leave his bunk.

“Weren’t you the one singing that first night?” Johnny asked.

“Buck’s got a great voice,” Steve said proudly, putting a hand on his shoulder to no doubt visually stake his claim with Max getting so fresh. “Only he never sings.”

“That’s a shame,” Johnny said. “Hey, wanna sit down?” They’d been talking on their way to grab food.

“Sure,” Steve said, and Bucky was glad he wasn’t being so jealous that he didn’t want to be social.

“Why don’t you save us some seats and we’ll be back with food?” Max told Johnny.

“Okay.” The way he smiled at his friend, Bucky knew he was in love with him. He hoped for his sake it went both ways.

“I’m gonna join him,” he told Steve, watching Johnny attempt to push his way through the lunch crowd with some difficulty. “Okay?”

“Okay, Buck.” The way Steve was looking at him, Bucky knew he was considering giving him a kiss good-bye. Sometimes the guy had no sense.

He covered Steve’s lips with his fingers. “See you soon, pal.” Bucky stressed the last word as a reminder. Not everyone on this ship knew they were lovers, and he wanted to keep it that way. “Be good,” he said, walking away. Hopefully Steve wouldn’t feel the need to do any macho posturing for Max once they were alone together.

“Hey, wait up!” he called after Johnny, noting when he got close that the guy he’d been thinking of as “smaller” was actually only a couple inches shorter than he was. Being around tall guys like Steve, Monty, and Dum Dum gave you a weird perspective on heights.

Johnny turned to greet him with that same bright smile. Bucky couldn’t tell if he was finding both these guys attractive because he already knew they were ‘that way’ or out of some weird sense of guilt from having watched them together, but it was a strange feeling. Both finding a guy attractive who wasn’t Steve (or Monty), and meeting other guys who had sex with guys.

“Look! Over there!” Johnny pointed at a group of seats together, taking Bucky’s hand and towing him along. Bucky didn’t mind. The guy had a childlike quality about him that made it natural for him to hold Bucky’s hand, kind of like how Patti would have.

When they reached the seats, Johnny took one side of the table, and Bucky took the other, taking off his jacket to lay it on the bench to save a place for Steve. “So.” Johnny leaned his elbows on the table and sat forward toward Bucky. “Have you two been...friends since you were kids?”

“Kind of.” Bucky had to think about it. He wasn’t sure if he should count the experimenting they’d done as pre-teens. But it was fair to say at least since Steve had been 17. That made...wow, 8 years since July. Not that they’d exactly been a couple all that time. He wasn’t even sure if they were one now. But it seemed like they’d at least been mistaken for one? And that made Bucky happy.  

“I bet long relationships like that are complicated,” Johnny said, sympathetic.

“Yeah…” He didn’t know the half of it. “What about you two?”

Johnny sighed.  _ So in love _ , Bucky thought. It was such a fragile, delicate thing in times like these. “We met in basic.”

Bucky was surprised. “No shit? And you ended up in the same unit?”

“Yeah.” A slow smile spread over Johnny’s face. “It was like it was fate.”

“Well, how did you--I mean. When did you--?”

He leaned forward further, dropping his voice. “So this one day, we’re in the showers, right?”

“In basic?” Bucky didn’t think his eyebrows could get any higher.

“Yeah. And I notice he’s lookin’ at me. Like really looking, you know?” Bucky thought of Steve staring at him over the camp shower stall wall and chuckled. “So that night, I catch him tugging the heck out of his little soldier, and I gave him that look right back.”

“Weren’t there, like, a ton of other guys around?” Bucky asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Johnny offered a naughty grin. “That’s why we found a supply closet and...the rest is history.”

“But how did you know?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Johnny said. “He was panting my name while he was…”

“No!”

“Yup.” He nodded, pleased. Well, that was certainly one way to know, Bucky mused. He wondered if Steve ever did that when Bucky wasn’t around… “He said he never saw an ass like mine. Though your honey’s got a pretty sweet one, if I may say so.”

Bucky laughed, embarrassed. “You’re not lyin’.”

“Hey, so what’s with the Brit who sleeps underneath your bunk on our side? Have you guys ever…?”

Bucky was lost. He must be talking about Falsworth, but had they ever what? Nearly fought a duel over him?  He wondered sometimes.

“You know. I mean, he seems pretty into it when you two are…”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “You mean he--?” Johnny was nodding.

_ Oh God. _ What a disaster. Steve could never know about this. He’d kill Monty. But to Johnny he said, “Somehow I doubt Steve would ever--” What? Go for it? That made it sound like Bucky would. He had to think about that. Would he? No. No, he didn’t want to share Steve. Not now with their time together so limited. But Monty definitely deserved some kind of reward for saving their asses over and over again.

“So you don’t mind if we do?” Johnny was saying.

“What?” It took Bucky’s brain a minute to catch up with the conversation. “Gosh, no.”

“Okay.” Johnny looked relieved. “I didn’t want to start a war in case we stole your third or something.”

Bucky wondered if Monty would even be up for such a thing.

_ I suppose I should do the same as our captain, if ever I were given such an opportunity. _

Maybe he would. Bucky wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Happy for him--maybe a little jealous? But how unfair was that? Monty didn’t belong to him, though it had started to feel a little bit like he did… “No, please,” Bucky repeated. “I mean, if he’s game, I think he could use the break.”

Johnny looked surprised. “You mean he hasn’t--”

Bucky shook his head. “No, we...we were prisoners of war up until about a week ago.”

Johnny’s pretty hazel eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

“Steve saved us,” Bucky said, hoping he didn’t look like a foolish schoolgirl, but he felt a bit like one to remember it. Steve pulling him off that table and practically carrying him out of the burning facility. Well, except the part where Bucky had had to catch him when he’d tried to jump 40 feet over the flames.

“He’s the one they’re calling Captain America, right?”

Bucky nodded. “That’s m-- Steve.” He wasn’t sure it was right to be calling Steve ‘my Steve,’ but it had almost slipped out way too easily.

“I knew it!” Johnny grinned. “I told Maxie, I said, ‘Look at that guy, he looks just like Captain America.’ I haven’t seen the newsreels since we’ve been in Italy, but my sister sent me the comics.”

Bucky just stared. “There are comics? Newsreels?”

“Sure,” Johnny said. “Your honey’s famous. You haven’t seen any of the movies?”

“Steve didn’t say anything about any movies.” Which was odd. Why would Steve not want Bucky to know? Was he married in these movies or something?

“Well, don’t tell him I told you.” Johnny reached over to touch Bucky’s hand and then looked over his shoulder in a way that told him Steve and Max were coming.

_ Movies? Holy shit. _ Bucky spent the whole meal in a fog, quietly listening to Steve chat with the other two while he tried to let it sink in.  _ My Steve. Little Steve from Brooklyn is a movie star.  _ With a spin-off series of comic books, too, apparently. No wonder Patti had wanted to sell his autograph.

That night, Bucky’s mind was still reeling. “Hey.” Steve slipped over to his side of the bunk and wrapped his arms around Bucky. “Wanna fool around?” The way he was nuzzling Bucky, it didn’t seem like he expected a no answer.

“Steve.” Bucky couldn’t sit on it any longer. “Why didn’t you tell me you were famous?”

Steve froze. “I’m not famous.” He was such a terrible liar.

“You told me you were in that war bonds show, but you didn’t say anything about movies.”

*

_ Shit.  _ How had Bucky found out? It must’ve been one of their new friends. Steve sighed. He supposed it would have come out eventually.

“Steve.” He realized he still hadn’t answered Bucky.

“I...was embarrassed,” he said.

“Why?” The way Bucky was looking at him made Steve feel worse.

“They were just newsreel shorts, Buck. Of me fighting over here for pretend. It was like propaganda.”

“Steve, people back home know who you are. That’s huge.”

“No they don’t, Buck.” It was the disparity that had bothered Steve all along. “They know Captain America. They don’t know who he is. They don’t know me.”

Bucky reached up and touched his face. He understood, Steve could tell from the look in his eyes.

“More than that, they don’t care. I’m just a figurehead to them. Cap is. He’s just this virtuous manly man who fights evil.”

“That’s not what you are?” Bucky asked with a smile.

“I’m just a kid from Brooklyn,” Steve said. “Who wanted to go to war like his dad, and fight beside his best friend.”

“Not like your dad,” Bucky corrected. “He died.”

Steve kissed him, because he could tell Bucky was worried. “Not like that, Buck. No.”

“But you are a hero, Steve,” Bucky said, stroking his cheek.

“I’m tryin’, Buck. But I’m just doin’ the best I can. I’m no paragon of virtue.”

“I’ll say,” Bucky smirked, rubbing up against him in a way that made Steve want to be unvirtuous in the worst way. “But, seriously, Stevie. Your best is all you can do. No one can ask for more than that.”

“But is it enough?” Steve asked. He felt like so many people’s hopes were riding on him sometimes. From Dr. Erskine to all those little kids in his audiences.

“It’s enough,” Bucky said, ending the conversation with a kiss.

Since they had no audience across the way tonight, Steve decided to go for broke. Down below, Dum Dum was out like a light, and Falsworth had found someplace else to be, for once.

“Steve. If you get loud, I’m gonna stop.” Steve promised not to get loud. “I’ve gotta go slow, so we don’t rock the bunks.” Steve agreed that was okay. “This probably won’t work,” Bucky warned him.

“Just try,” Steve begged. And Bucky did. Steve jerked off to make up for the fact Bucky couldn’t pound his ass like he really wanted. Oh, but it felt so good to have him back inside him.

“You know Johnny said you have a nice ass?” Bucky whispered as he slowly rocked in and out.

“Yeah?” Steve turned to see his expression. “What’d you tell ‘im?”

“I said he was right.” When Bucky pinched his ass, Steve had to muffle a groan in his pillow. “But I’m not sharing.”

“Oh, Buck.” The idea of Bucky getting jealous over him with another guy was titillating.

“You’re mine, Steve. Just for now. You promised.” The way he thrust a rhythm that somehow matched his words was both sexy and hilarious.

“My ass will always be yours, Buck,” Steve said, lifting Bucky’s hand to his lips.

“Steve!” Wow, did that just push him over the edge? No, the way Bucky was biting his shoulder, Steve could tell he was frustrated he couldn’t pick up the pace.

“Hold on, Buck.” He slid off, grabbed the wet towel, cleaned him up. Then Steve set to worshiping the organ that had given him so much pleasure, stroking Bucky’s taint teasingly.

“Fuck you, Steve Rogers,” Bucky gasped. “Bring that big cock up here.” Steve rearranged his body on the bunk, happy to comply. Both of them were pretty worked up at that point. They didn’t last long. The trick was to come quietly. Steve managed. Bucky was the loud one this time.

Dum Dum stopped snoring, and they both froze. Steve slowly drew the sheet up over them, and then the noise started up again. “Man, good thing Falsworth isn’t here,” Steve said, blotting one of the wet spots they’d made in the thin canvas.

“He’s not?” Bucky said, glancing over at where Max and Johnny should be.

“Nope.” Steve had checked. Twice.

“Well whaddayou know about that?”

Steve felt like he’d missed something. “I don’t know?”

“Come here with that sweet ass of yours.” Bucky tugged at his arm, wanting Steve to snuggle, probably, like usual.

“Again?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“No,” Bucky laughed. “But maybe tomorrow if I can find out where their secret hiding place is.”

There was a secret hiding place on board? For sex? Steve was liking this hellhole more and more.


	23. What Turns Your Crank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes in search of the 'secret place' on the ship. Steve keeps him up all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated Explicit and features:  
> Bucky (POV)  
> Steve  
> Max  
> Johnny
> 
> A smut/fluff sandwich.

The next night, Bucky went to find the secret hiding place. 

He’d told Steve to wait. It was late, but there was never a time aboard the ship when the coast was clear. Too many guys, too small a space. No matter where you went, no matter when, someone was bound to be up. Always. And what was more suspicious than a guy sneaking around looking for a secret place to fuck? Naturally, two guys sneaking around looking for a secret place to fuck.

Bucky ruled out the toilets right away. The ship was not like the train; what passed for latrines here bordered on inhuman. No one would ever be turned on enough to do it in there. Instead, Bucky headed for the showers. They were open, so far as he remembered, but maybe there was a single stall tucked back in there somewhere. It was worth checking.

Bucky didn’t know what time it was. Late. But the showers were on. No one seemed to be loitering in the corridor, so he crept up to the doorway. There was a guy blocking it--what was going on?

The door-man turned to him, blocking the view and looking imposing. “You come to join?”

“What?” Bucky asked. Join what?

“It’s okay Billy. He’s okay.” That was Max’s voice. When the man who was a door stepped aside, Bucky suddenly got an eyeful of what he’d been asked if he wanted to join.

Few of the guys in here were clothed. That was fine, it was a shower, after all. Only no one was really showering. Sure, the water was on in one spot, one guy taking spray to the face while another guy rode his ass bareback. Max, who’d spotted Bucky and given the okay, was getting blown by no less than two guys. Bucky wasn’t really sure how that worked. It didn’t look very satisfying, with two guys just basically fighting over your cock. But wow. His eyes widened. Max seemed to have one worth fighting over.

Automatically, he looked around for Johnny, because Johnny wasn’t one of the guys with Max. Bucky wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He supposed it wasn’t his business to feel anything about their relationship; it was theirs, after all. But he couldn’t help but make comparisons between them and him and Steve.

Then he found Johnny, lying on the changing bench in the locker room part, getting fucked by one guy while he sucked another one off. Damn, that looked like fun. But Bucky couldn’t think of a way he’d ever be able to do that unless Steve cloned himself.

He was hard. It was impossible not to watch and hear and smell all the stuff going on in here and not be turned on. At least, if you were a guy who got off on sex with other guys. Bucky supposed he was; there was really no denying it in a situation like this.

The second important conclusion he came to was no way could he bring Steve in here. For one thing, all of these guys would want a piece of him, and Bucky wasn’t sure he could handle that...as much as Steve might enjoy it. For another thing, Bucky didn’t feel like he had control here. Not of their privacy, and not of what was being done, or what might be done to them. That terrified him. Sex with Steve was safe. This...something about this reminded him of Zola’s lab, and Schmidt’s ‘dinner’ parties. He started to back out of the room.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Max stopped him before he could get to the door. Somehow, his blowjob buddies had disappeared, and here he was, naked and stiff, standing right next to Bucky. Bucky swallowed. Max was handsome.

“Hey,” Bucky replied timidly. It’s not like it was the first time a man besides Steve had complimented or hit on him. He was just used to it happening with more clothes on all around.

“I was hoping we’d see you here,” Max said, stepping closer. Bucky could feel his body heat. He wanted to run. But part of him also wondered what Max’s skin smelled like. He was in arm’s reach now, but more than that, he was in cock’s reach. Bucky could feel it bouncing against his thigh, and his first instinct was to recoil from it, but he was also a little curious.

“You’re shy,” Max smiled. “That’s sweet.” He reached up and touched Bucky’s cheek. “Look at those eyes. You are a sweet thing.” He leaned in for a kiss, but Bucky stopped him with both hands braced on Max’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, embarrassed and terrified and a little turned on. “Me and Steve, we don’t--share.” Was that an offensive word to use to describe what was going on here? “...like you do,” he finished lamely.

“That’s too bad,” Max said, and his bedroom voice could have given Steve a run for his money. He walked Bucky back toward the wall, which Bucky hadn’t realized was so close. “I could really go for a guy like you,” Max said, his lips brushing against Bucky’s cheek as he spoke.

“That’s...thanks,” Bucky said, feeling trapped and needing a way out that wouldn’t hurt anyone’s feelings. “But I--”

Max disappeared suddenly. And then, miraculously, there was Steve. “May I have this dance?” Bucky was so relieved to see him, he hardly processed how gently he’d said them, how romantic those words sounded coming from Steve.

“Steve.” Bucky clung to him, just breathing.

“So this is the secret place?”

“I guess.” Bucky opened his eyes and realized that Steve must have flung Max across the room. He was lying on the floor propped against the wall, wincing in pain. “Steve...you didn’t hurt him?”

“He was gettin’ too close for comfort,” Steve said. “No one kisses my baby but me.” Bucky wanted to cry to hear those words from Steve. But he was worried about Max. Steve gripped his arms to keep Bucky from going to check on him.

“He’s not hurt,” Steve told him. “I just gave him a friendly body-check across the room. He’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Max was trying to get up now. It looked like his wrist might be injured.

“Stop talkin about other guys, Buck.” Steve kissed him hard. “I’m here now.”

“Here?” Bucky asked, not sure if that’s what Steve was suggesting, or how he felt about it if Steve was.

“Sure, why not?” Steve said. “I don’t care if they watch. Just so long’s they keep their distance.” But Bucky still wasn’t sure. He was glancing around, trying to see who was watching them, if Max was planning on coming back and taking his shot at Steve.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” Steve could tell Bucky wasn’t on the same page as he was. 

“It’s just...all these guys.”

“And we’re inside,” Steve said, cradling Bucky’s face with his hand.

“Yeah.”

“C’mon.” Steve started walking backwards, almost like they were really dancing, because he was still holding Bucky against him.

“Steve?”

“Say goodbye to your pals, Buck.”

Bucky looked around. A few guys were staring at them. Most of them were just fucking and sucking like they had been when Bucky first came in. He exhaled a little sigh. It would be a nice addition to his spank bank anyway. “Izzat what you want me to do to you?” Steve growled into his ear.

“Mmm. Maybe.” When he caught Max’s eye, Bucky tried to look apologetic. Max just nodded, and gave an informal salute to show there were no hard feelings. Bucky looked back at Steve. “Where are we going, Stevie?”

“I got an idea.”

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure if he should be worried or excited.

“Yeah.” Steve put his hands on either side of Bucky’s ass and jerked him close for a kiss. Excited. He was supposed to be excited.

“Steve…”

“I know you’re hard-up, Buck,” Steve said. “Think how I feel. We haven’t been able to fuck like we usually do for almost a week now.” Bucky declined pointing out this was partly due to Steve’s monumental seasickness.

“So did you...when you saw what was going on in there…?” This was an awkward conversation, but Bucky wanted to know.

“What, did I wanna join in?” Steve looked back, now towing Bucky by the hand. Bucky nodded. “No. Not...really.” Steve bit his lip. “Mostly I was thinking what it would be like if those guys were you and me.”

“Me, too,” Bucky admitted. Steve stopped and turned around to face him.

“You’d really rather fuck me than all those cute guys?” Bucky couldn’t really remember if any of them had been cute besides Max and Johnny. Wait, had Steve just called all those guys cute?

“Of course, Steve,” Bucky said. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Oh, Buck.” Steve took his face in his hands and kissed him in a way that felt almost like a tonsil exam. “God, I want you right here.”

“Steve!”

“Okay, you’re right.” He took Bucky’s hand again and started towing him up to the deck. “It’s gonna be cold,” Steve said, and Bucky wondered just where Steve was planning on taking him abovedecks where all the sailors were working, and many of the soldiers were loitering. “But I’ll warm you up.”

“You always do,” Bucky smiled, squeezing Steve’s hand.

Steve turned back, smiling. “The weird thing is,” he said, “you really are sweet, but not like Max thinks.” Bucky blanched. Steve had heard that part? How long had he been standing there?

“Whaddaya mean?” Bucky asked, trying to take his hand back, because they were starting to pass other soldiers now. But Steve wasn’t letting him go.

“Here’s the thing I never understood.” Steve continued to tow him along. Bucky could feel the frozen wind coming from the deck. “When other guys see you, right? It seems like they only ever had two reactions.” Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. “Like, either they’re so jealous of your looks that they call you ‘fag’ or ‘pretty boy’ or ‘girly-man’ or whatever…” Bucky sagged. He was very familiar with that reaction. “...or they want you. Like, they’re so blown away by how beautiful you are, they just react to you like they’d react to a girl.”

“Thanks a lot, Steve,” Bucky grumbled. Apparently Steve noticed things Bucky didn’t, because he’d just as soon pass on discussing these guys who wanted to make him their ewe.  

“But the thing is,” Steve continued. “That’s stupid. They don’t know you at all to think that.” Bucky felt a little better to hear Steve say so. “Just cuz you got a pretty face don’t make you a dame.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Bucky said, sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” Steve said, seriously. “I mean, you’re all guy. Those assholes don’t know you could’ve lettered in any sport you wanted to in high school. Only you didn’t, because you had to work so much you didn’t have time for sports.”

That was true. They’d never really talked about it, so he was surprised Steve had noticed.

“You were the one half the girls in the neighborhood lifted their skirts for the first time. None o’  _ them _ thought you were like a girl.”

“None that mentioned it, anyway,” Bucky tried to joke. Somehow it didn’t make him feel very manly to hear Steve talk about him sleeping around.

“But I can’t figure it out,” Steve said, finally letting go of Bucky as they approached the starboard rail. “It’s like they can’t face the fact they’re attracted to a guy, so they gotta make you a girl in their minds.”

“That’s really disturbing, Steve.” Why were they having this conversation again?

“I know!” Steve said, as though Bucky were agreeing with his point. “What a bunch of dumbasses.”

“Whoa, Steve! What are you--” At first it had looked like Steve was just calmly climbing over the rail. But then Bucky realized, he was reaching for the nearest lifeboat. “Is that safe?” Bucky asked.

“Keep a lookout, wouldja, Buck?” Steve asked, fumbling with the edge of the tarp-covered emergency boat.

Bucky sighed and did it. He didn’t really understand why, but how many times had he played lookout for Steve when they were up to no good? It was just habit by now.

“Got it.” Bucky turned to see Steve had peeled back the cover. “You first, Buck.”

“Steve…” The idea of climbing or jumping the five feet out to a boat suspended in mid-air over the open ocean did not really appeal to him. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me,” Steve said, smiling in that way Bucky could never say no to.

“Damnit.” Bucky wasn’t sure if he was cursing himself or Steve as he let his friend give him a leg up to the lifeboat. “If they catch us, I’m blaming you,” he said, holding on to the rocking edge of the damn thing for dear life.

“They won’t catch us,” Steve said, cheerfully, groping Bucky’s backside as he gave him one last boost up.

Bucky clambered in, his heart hammering in his chest. That had been horrible. He hadn’t even looked down. If he’d seen the water all those feet below, he wasn’t sure he could have made it. The boat started to rock like a storm had suddenly descended, and Bucky gripped the rowing bench overhead and closed his eyes. But it was just Steve. A large body settled next to him in the belly of the boat, and Steve’s arms wrapped around him and tugged him close. He didn’t feel quite so terrified. “Sometimes I really hate you, Steve Rogers,” Bucky said. Somehow the howling wind of the deck had found the opening Steve had made in the canvas and was whistling straight in to dance across them with ice-cold fingers.

“No you don’t,” Steve insisted, complete with baby-talk voice. “You love me, Buck, admit it.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.” Bucky couldn’t give in THAT easily.

“Yup,” Steve said cheerfully. “Your dick was in my ass just last night, that’s how I know.”

Bucky flicked his nose, playfully. “Maybe my dick is the one who loves you.”

“Your dick loves me, too,” Steve said, thoughtful. “But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think on his own.”

“You sure about that?” Bucky asked. Because honestly, there were days he wasn’t.

“Well, I suppose I could ask him.” Steve grinned.

“You could,” Bucky said, thoughtful. “But then who would I talk to?” The look on Steve’s face was positively wicked. “No, Steve, hold it,” he said, grabbing him as he started to move into position. “We been doin’ that all week. I wanna do somethin’ we haven’t been able to.”

Steve considered this. His eyes got wide. “Buck, you mean you want me to…?”

Bucky thought about it. It was really tempting. But, no. He wanted to hold off on that until they were in a nice, warm room with a bed. A real one. Not shitty cots. “No,” he said. Bucky slid his arms around Steve, shoving his hands up the back of Steve’s shirt because they were frozen.

“Hoo! Bucky! You made my nipples hard.”

Bucky started to laugh. That was so Steve. Eternally 12-years-old. “My hands are cold, you damn punk.”

“So put ‘em down my pants,” Steve urged. “I’m even hotter for you down there.” He nuzzled Bucky until he tilted his head to one side and Steve could get at his neck.

“Steve,” Bucky said, gently.

“Yeah?” He must’ve got it in his head that turnabout was fair play, because Steve’s hands were roving enthusiastically over Bucky’s chest now.

“Can we just…”

“Fuck?” Jeez, he had a one-track mind.

“No. Can we just. Lie here together and talk? I feel like we couldn’t really...not like we have been--with all the guys there.”

“All right, Buck.” Steve laid off his neck-biting for the moment. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. “Whaddayou wanna talk about?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky felt very put on the spot, now. Their pillow talk always developed more organically than this. “You think I’ll be able to call home once we get to London?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Steve said. “How come?”

“Well, the army told ‘em I was dead,” Bucky pointed out. “I wanna make sure they know I’m alive.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “They’ll be so happy to hear your voice.”

“Mostly I just want to hear theirs,” Bucky admitted. “I haven’t, you know. Not since I shipped out.”

Steve’s arms squeezed him apologetically. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah it is,” Bucky said, feeling his eyes start to burn a little. “Did you talk to ‘em while you were traveling with the USO?”

“Naw,” Steve said. “Katie sent letters, though. Pat, too. I just didn’t have time to write back.”

“Didn’t have time?” Bucky thought he heard a lie lurking there.

“I just didn’t know what to say to ‘em, Buck,” Steve admitted. “They’re your sisters...not mine.”

“Come on, Steve. You’ve known them all as long as you’ve known me. They might as well be your sisters.”

“I know,” Steve said, trying to find the words. “It’s just...I mean, I missed you more than I missed them.”

“Steve…”

“What’m I supposed to write? ‘Dear Kate, I miss Buck so much I can’t sleep sometimes, worryin’ about him over there all alone’?”

“Yes. That is what you write, Steve. ‘Cause you know Kate was worryin’ just as much. You guys could’ve talked about it. Maybe it woulda made you feel better.”

“Nothin’ woulda made me feel better,” Steve said, stubborn. “‘cept this.” He leaned in and kissed Bucky, slow but sweet.

“And do you feel better now, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling in a silly sort of lovesick puppy way.

“I feel better, too,” Bucky admitted, kissing Steve again.

“Aw, Buck,” Steve sighed. “Let’s just lie here and make out like teenagers.”

He chuckled. “I dunno, Steve, we were pretty hot and heavy as teenagers.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve grinned. “I was a perfect gentleman.”

“Funny, my ass seems to remember different.”

“Nn, Bucky,” Steve sighed, his hard length pressed against Bucky’s hip. “I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

“I know.” Bucky stroked his hair. “Me, too, Stevie. I mean. I can wait. But I’m lookin ‘forward to it.”

Steve giggled. “That sounds so formal, Buck. ‘Dear Mister Rogers. Stop. Am looking forward to our next meeting. Stop. Please put your dick up my ass. Stop.”

“Stop!” Bucky said, laughing. “What is this, a business arrangement?”

“I’ll arrange  _ your _ business, Mr. Barnes!” Steve joked, making a grab for it. “No way, you been hard this whole time?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t turned on, Steve. I said let’s talk.”

“Okay, but. Can we talk and fool around at the same time? Cuz I’m really hard-up, Buck.”

“You’re a terrible person, Steve.”

“What? I’m just bein’ honest. ‘sides, seein’ all those guys goin at it in the showers kinda turned my crank.” And he was back to victimizing Bucky’s throat again. “Yours, too, right?” he asked.

Bucky really didn’t want to admit it. “I can’t say it did nothing for me.”

“Cuz you like to watch, right?” Steve looked up, grinning wickedly.

“Shut up!” What an embarrassing thing to taunt him with.

“Oo, I know!” Steve pulled away, leaving the cold to seep into Bucky’s bones again. He was about to complain, but the first thing Steve did was to turn around and button up the canvas over the lifeboat. That helped with the wind, at least.

The second thing he did was to lock eyes with Bucky as he unbuttoned his fly. “Steve, what are you doing?” But Steve’s only response was a wicked grin. He eased his erection out of his pants--no shorts again, Bucky noted, the horny bastard--and started to run his fingers along the length, tilting his hips to pose for Bucky as he gently rolled his foreskin down, cupping his balls and closing his eyes.

“You’re freakin’ dirty, Steve,” Bucky told him, but it was working. Steve paused to push his pants down, baring his ass. Bucky bit his lip.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve sighed, starting to stroke himself in earnest.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, Stevie?” Bucky asked.

“‘bout that bathroom on the train,” Steve whined. “You fuckin me up against the door so’s no one could bust in on us.”

Bucky blinked. “You think about me fuckin’ you a lot?”

“Ohhhhh yeah,” Steve groaned, starting to piston his hips. “Buck, you fuck me so good. I never felt like that before.”

“Yeah?” Bucky was sitting up now.

“Yeah,” Steve whined a little, biting his lip and reaching one hand back to play with his ass.

“Steve.” Bucky could almost feel his pupils dilating. “You finger your ass when you think about me fuckin’ you?”

“Sometimes,” Steve said, starting to push two fingers in. 

“Stop, stop,” Bucky told him, searching his pockets for lube.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve told him, his eyelids heavy with lust. “I can do it.”

“Show me.” And he did, starting to fuck his fist in earnest when he penetrated himself. “Jesus, Steve. You have done this before.”

“Not that much,” Steve admitted, slowing down. “Cuz usually we just fuck. I like that better.”

“‘Better than my hand’. Write that on my tombstone.”

Steve stopped all together then, crawling over to Bucky with the saddest eyes. “No, Buck, don’t say that.”

Bucky stroked his stubbled cheeks. “It’s okay, Stevie. I was just teasin you.”

“Don’t joke about that, though,” Steve said, bruising Bucky’s heart with those hurt eyes. “Anyway, you’re way better’n my hand and you know it.” He kept crawling, pushing Bucky back so that he was lying down again.

“Steve…”

“Yeah?”

“You really think about me when you jerk off?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s lips started at Bucky’s navel and kept going, pushing his shirt up as he went. “For years. You’re way hotter’n dirty pictures.”

“I am?” Bucky wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He’d never been told he was better than bare breasts before.

“Yeah you are,” Steve growled, pulling Bucky’s shirt off all together.

“Steve,” Bucky shivered. “It’s cold.”

“I’ll warm you up, baby.” He pulled his own shirt off before lying down on top of Bucky.

“You’d better,” Bucky said, when he let him up for air.

“I will.” And then Steve ruined another perfectly good pair of pants by biting the buttons off.

“Damnit, Steve!”

“Hmm?” But it was too late. His lips were wrapped around Bucky, and the time for conversing seemed at an end.

“Nevermind,” Bucky gasped, thrusting into the heat of Steve’s mouth. “Oh, God!” It was not so many seconds later.

Steve grinned, wiping the corner of his lips. “You  _ were  _ worked up.”

“Says the guy who just fingered his own ass because he couldn’t wait.”

“Hey, I was puttin on a show. Did you like it?”

“It was quite a show,” Bucky smirked, teasing Steve where he was starting to leave a wet stain on Bucky’s pant-leg.

“Oh, God, Buck!”

“Turn around, Stevie.” He did, but not before giving Bucky a big, wet kiss first. He was so eager.

“Buck, are you hard again?” Steve glanced back.

“I know what I’m doin’, Stevie, just hold your horses.” And Steve turned back around. “Get up on your knees.” Bucky had never seen Steve so cooperative. He should probably top more often. “Now spread your legs for me...that’s good.”

Bucky used his mouth and fingers, because Steve had been right. He wasn’t ready to do more yet. When Steve came, he came hard, doing that freaky distance thing he could do now. Bucky stroked him until semen was running down his wrist. “Better?” he asked Steve.

“A little,” Steve admitted. “But do you think--?” Bucky cut him off by moving into position. Steve froze, nervous. “Buck, are you gonna--?” And then he was lubing him up, and Steve heaved a sigh of relief. Playing with your ass lube-free was okay. Having a hard dick up there…

“Is that what you wanted, Stevie?”

“Oh, yeah.” Steve pushed back, taking him in faster. “Oh God, Buck. Feels so good…”

Bucky himself was having trouble maintaining control. He wasn’t sure why. But suddenly he really wanted to fuck Steve. “God, I love your ass.” Bucky panted as he started to move faster.

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve breathed. “Harder.”

“Like. That?”

“Hnn, yeah. More.” And Bucky pounded his ass until Steve wailed.

“You’re a bossy bottom,” Bucky panted, lying on top of Steve, after.  

Steve, for once, had no words. He just pulled Bucky up for an exhausted kiss. They lay there, and slept a little. Bucky woke up with Steve blowing him, and he stretched out and relaxed while Steve rode his hips. The guy was like some kind of machine, the stamina he had. At least he didn’t seem to mind that Bucky didn’t do much besides jerk him off and grope him a little.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve gasped, bouncing. “I just...I want it. So bad.”

Bucky traced Steve’s cupid’s bow with his index finger, and Steve’s lips parted to suck the tip. “Congratulations, Steve,” Bucky told him, feeling that ache in his balls. “You’re an ass-slut.”  

“Come on, Buck,” Steve breathed. “Come in me. I wanna feel what it’s like.”

“Jesus. Don’t flex like that.”

“Come on, I know you’re close.”

Bucky smacked him hard on the ass. “Bossy.”

“Ohhhh, yeah, you know what I like.” Bucky got a couple more slaps in before he had to hold onto Steve’s ass and thrust until he was spent. The noises Steve made were loud and indecent. “Ooo, that was good, Buck.” He curled up against him. “Gross, but hot, too.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Bucky groaned.

“I  _ guess _ ,” Steve teased, kissing him sweetly. “But I might wake you up again in an hour.”

“Oh my God.” Bucky threw an arm over his eyes, exhausted. “Go to sleep, Steve.”

“Maybe for a little bit.” He snuggled up against Bucky.

“No, Steve. For a long bit.” Sleep really needed to happen. He didn’t even want to know what time it was.

“Nn. Long bit.”

“Steve!”

“Just kiddin’, Buck.”

“No you’re not!”

“You’re right; I’m not.” 

Bucky did get a little bit of sleep that night. But he was starting to miss the cots by the end. 


	24. Panic in the Mess Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky start off their last day aboard the ship with another trip to the showers. A simple run for coffee turns into a UFC-style free-for-all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you call a barroom brawl without a bar?

Apart from spending the night practically being used as a sex toy, Bucky had alternately been hot and freezing cold. Privacy was nice, but waking up feeling like he was getting sick was not. To add to his dismay that morning, when he tried to get all of his clothing back on and make sure nothing was left behind, Bucky remembered that Steve had kindly bitten all of his buttons off again, so it was either climb out of this life boat in front of the whole crew with no pants on, or put his belt on and hope for the best.

“I hate you, Steve,” he sighed, holding his fly together with one hand while he tried to comb his hair with the other.

“Do not,” Steve grinned, far too cheerful.

“Gimme your pants, then,” Bucky said.

“They won’t fit you,” Steve grinned.

“Fuck you. My pants won’t fit YOU. But yours’ll fit me,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said, nuzzling him.

“The hell you are, Steve.”

Steve brushed rough fingers through his hair. “I’m not sorry we fucked five times.” He sighed blissfully, remembering. Bucky just groaned. “I am sorry you’re tired. And cold.”

“And sore,” Bucky put in.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Steve kissed his cheek, eyeing Bucky’s neck. In the most romantic way possible, Bucky put his hand over Steve’s face.

“Steve, not again.” Steve chuckled, the frustrating jerk, like this was funny. Then Bucky sneezed.

“Shit, Buck!” Suddenly Steve was his best friend again, putting his jacket on, putting his own jacket on over that, bundling Bucky up like a kid going out to play in the snow. “I don’t want you to get sick!”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Stevie, we spent all night in a fucking boat hung out over the open ocean in November. Now you’re thinking maybe that was a bad idea?”

“Don’t sass me, James Buchanan.” Steve really did look worried now. “I can’t help it if you make me so horny, I lose my damn mind.” That did make Bucky laugh.

“You kinda did lose your mind last night, Stevie.”

“Buck, I’m sorry.” He was getting rosy over the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones.

“Don’t cry, Stevie.” He reached out to cup his cheek and pull him in for a hug. Steve buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder the way he used to do when he was small.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded so small. And he was definitely crying. “We gotta get you inside. Warm you up.” He sat back and started to unfasten his pants.

“Steve.” Bucky stopped his fingers. “I didn’t really mean for you to give me your pants.”

“No, Buck. You’re right. You can’t be walkin’ around with open pants. Man, I’m such an asshole…”

Bucky grabbed both of Steve’s hands and held them. “Steve Rogers, you are not an asshole.” He looked up at Bucky with puppy eyes, then, breaking his heart in pieces. “You’re not,” he repeated. “You just...get a little excited is all.”

Steve threw himself against Bucky, hugging him, and Bucky squeezed him tight. “Oh God, you’re so warm.”

“Poor Buck. You’re freezin’.” He quickly fixed his pants, then tugged Bucky’s jackets down over his hips. “Let’s get you inside. Just make sure your shirt stays pulled down and no one’ll notice the pants.” He chafed Bucky’s arms, trying to get him warm. “You need a hot shower.” They both looked at each other for a moment. “Okay, maybe not a shower.”

“I’m sure they’re done by NOW,” Bucky said. Well, he wasn’t 100%, but he was pretty close to it.

Steve seemed to be considering. “It won’t give you the creeps to go back in there after last night?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’da been okay if you hadn’t come.” But he wasn’t looking at Steve.

He seemed to get that, tugging Bucky into a fierce hug. “I will always come for you.” It was a dead-serious moment. For about five seconds. Then they both busted out laughing.

“You perv!”

“Look who’s talkin! C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

But Bucky wasn’t so sure how that was going to work. There had to be sailors all over the place out there now. Not to mention the jump back to the ship. Steve, in his usual simplistic way, just unbuttoned the tarp and leapt back to the ship. Bucky held on like crazy, because it had made the lifeboat rock again. “C’mon, Buck!” he called back. Yeah, yeah. Easier said than done. It wasn’t like he was afraid of heights or anything.

Bucky gingerly stuck his head out. “Steve, this is crazy.”

“C’mon. It’s just like last night, only in reverse.”

“I swear to God, Steve Rogers--”

“C’mon, Buck. Jump!”

Bucky shushed him. “Not so loud!”

“The longer you stay up there, the better chance someone’ll catch us.” Steve had a good point. He was a jerk, but he had a point.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky half-jumped, half-fell out of the lifeboat. He would’ve hit the rail, maybe bounced off and fallen into the Atlantic, but Steve caught him and yanked him onto the deck. Bucky just leaned against him for a minute, trying not to have a heart attack. “Please don’t ever make me do that again,” he said.

“I promise, Buck.” Steve’s fingers were so gentle in his hair, stroking over his scalp.

“Hey!” They both jumped. An angry sailor swaggered toward them in his bell-bottoms. “Army below-decks. It’s breakfast. Go eat somethin’.”

“Yes, sir!” Steve saluted, crisply. Bucky was still recovering from the jump, and couldn’t quite get it together to do the same.

“I got my eye on you, soldier,” the sailor scowled. Bucky was half a second away from answering back with a smart remark. That’s how he knew how tired he really was.

“Come on, Buck.” Maybe Steve saw it. He slid an arm around his shoulders and started steering Bucky back down belowdecks.

“That guy was an asshole,” he grumped, once they were out of earshot.

“That guy saw you jump out of the boat,” Steve said, playing casual. “He was also checkin out your ass while we walked away.”

“Was not,” Bucky protested. “He was probably wonderin’ why my pants are falling down.”

Steve quickly glanced over to make sure they weren’t really. Bucky grinned at him. “You dumb jerk,” Steve smiled back. His pants weren’t falling down. Yet.

“Made ya look!” Steve mussed his tousled hair even more for revenge. “Great, now I really need a shower,” Bucky smirked.

“I’ll give you a shower, Sergeant Barnes,” Steve growled.

“No, Steve. No. Be good. Hold my clothes while I’m in the shower.”

Steve laughed. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll go find you some pants with buttons while you’re  in there.”

There was no reason for Bucky to be nervous about Steve not watching his back while he was in the shower. “Thanks, Steve.” But he was.

Turned out, there was nothing to be afraid of, though. Except maybe the state of the showers themselves. He hadn’t noticed last night just how filthy they were. Granted, there had been more distracting things to notice at the time. Bucky stayed under the hot spray as long as he dared, and then quickly washed up.

Steve was waiting for him with a fresh pair of pants. “Are those yours or mine?” he asked.

“Yours, dummy,” Steve grinned affectionately, bending down to kiss him--but Bucky jumped back before he could.

“Steve!” he hissed. “We are not alone here.”

“Sorry, Buck,” he said, still wearing that goofy lovestruck expression. Bucky snatched his pants and went over to the corner to dress. Maybe being out of arm’s reach would prevent Steve from doing something that could get them both keelhauled. He could feel Steve’s eyes heavy on his back, though. Bucky did his best to ignore it.

Once his pants were on, he turned around to find Steve just standing there, bare-assed. Bucky wasn’t the only one staring, either. “Steve, what the--”

“I’m gonna hit the showers. Wait for me, huh?”

“‘kay.” It was hard to talk and look at Steve in the buff at the same time. Several sets of eyes followed Steve into the shower. Bucky glanced around in case he needed to bust some heads, but none did more than stare for a couple of seconds before pretending to do something else. This was what it was like to live with an Adonis in their midst, Bucky thought. Of course they were staring. His own eyes were glued to the soft curves of Steve’s ass, starting to turn a little pink under the hot water.

“Hey, Buck?”

His eyes snapped up, guiltily. “Yeah, Steve?”

“Hand me the soap, huh?”

Oh God. Steve had always done the cutest thing where he couldn’t open his eyes again once his face was wet. He was doing it right now, turning around with them still squinched shut. Another thing Steve hadn’t lost with the serum. It was a relief. It was adorable. “Buck?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, Stevie.” He walked in and handed him a bar. It got his feet all wet again, and soaked his pants from the ankle down, but it was totally worth it. The added bonus was the warning glare he got to give the other guys in there, some of whom had been considering handing Steve the soap for him.

By the time Steve got out of the shower, Bucky was feeling a lot better. Between the hot water and the steam, not to mention a stark reminder of just how lucky he was, how singular and perfect Steve was... He couldn’t be mad at that. If Steve wanted to fuck him raw all night, he should be saying thank you, not complaining about lack of sleep.

“You ready for breakfast?” His smile really did light up a room.

“Yeah.” Bucky smiled back.

“You look like you’re feeling better.” He slid an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Guys could walk with their arms around their pals’ shoulders, right? That wasn’t too queer.

“A little bit,” Bucky nodded.

“Know what’ll make you feel even better?” Bucky looked up, fully expecting Steve to say something about sex. “Coffee.” Why was he disappointed? “Buck? What’s wrong?”

Okay, that was embarrassing. “Nothin’.” Bucky smiled to show it was fine. “Coffee sounds great.”

“And then maybe a nap.” Steve genuinely looked worried.

“I’m not gettin’ sick,” Bucky reassured him. “Honest.”

“Yeah. But you still need your rest.” The arm around his shoulders started to tug him closer to Steve’s face, and Bucky didn’t need to guess why. He ducked down, planning to get a couple steps ahead so Steve would stop trying to kiss him. In the process, he nearly ran into Falsworth.

“Sergeant.” Was he blushing? “Captain.” He gave Steve a curt nod. Monty was so formal when Steve was around. And he usually looked like he was afraid he was about to get his ass handed to him. Bucky looked back at Steve to make sure he was keeping it friendly. He was.

“Mornin’, Lieutenant. We were just on the way to the mess for breakfast. Wanna join us?” That really surprised Bucky. He was proud of Steve.

“Ah, thank you, no. My stomach’s been a bit...off.” He tried to summon up a smile. “Fortunately, we should reach Southampton by this evening.”

“Really?” Bucky wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed this voyage from hell was almost over.

“And then on to London, right?” Steve was practically beaming.

_ Oh...Oh! _ Bucky understood Steve’s excitement now. Or he  _ thought _ he did.  

“I’m sure none of us will be sorry to see the old girl go.” When Steve looked confused, he continued, “The ship. To bid farewell to this...ship.”

“Yeah, not me.” Poor Steve and his seasickness. Bucky rubbed his back a little. Even though that was breaking his own rules about public displays of affection.

They parted ways with Falsworth, knowing they’d see him back at their bunks. In the mess, Steve insisted Bucky go find them seats while he grabbed food. Bucky supposed he could let Steve fuss over him for once, but he wasn’t going to do anything without coffee. So he grabbed some and then started to walk around.

“Bucky!”

“Hey, handsome!” Two familiar voices called out to him. He turned to see Max and Johnny waving him over to their table. Wow, this was going to be awkward. Bucky tried to smile, and resolved to make the best of it. 

“Oh hey, guys. Mornin’.”

“And how did you sleep last night?” Johnny asked with a conspiratorial smirk.

“Ugh.” Bucky was in the process of sitting down. He just followed through with the movement and laid his forehead against the table.

“That much, huh?” He could hear the smile in Johnny’s voice, followed by Max’s rich laughter.

“I thought he might.”

“Hm?” Bucky looked up, taking another sip of coffee.

“He’s a little possessive,” Max clarified. “I thought he might give you a little reminder of who your ass belongs to.” Bucky’s eyes darted around, paranoid that they’d be overheard.

“No...it’s not like that. How’s your wrist, by the way?” His eyes went back to Max.

“I’ll be fine.” He held up his right hand, showing the wrap someone had put on his wrist. Bucky must have looked horrified, because Johnny laughed.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, Max has had worse.” Johnny glanced sideways at his partner. “He has a thing for boys who’re already spoken for.” Max grinned like it was something to be proud of.

“Sounds...dangerous,” Bucky considered. But he really didn’t know. Most guys probably weren’t as possessive as Steve.

“That’s why he’s used to it.” Johnny was chuckling as he dug around his tray for something edible.

“Is it really okay, though?” Bucky wanted to know.

Max’s grin was a feral thing, inviting. “You wanna kiss it better, sweet cheeks?”

“God! No!” Bucky hid his burning face in his coffee cup.

“Speakin’ of your fearless defender, where is he?” Johnny wanted to know.

“Getting food,” Bucky mumbled into his coffee.

Johnny gasped, catching sight of Steve across the room, balancing two trays and two more cups of coffee. “And such a perfect gentleman, too.”

“It’s not his gentleman-like manner you’re ogling, Mr. Dubov.”

“You know, Mr. Allen, I believe you may be correct.” Bucky thought he should be amused, but really he was just mortified to be sitting with them this morning. Johnny sighed wistfully, still staring hard at Steve. “You know, I still can’t believe he’s one of us. Captain America. Who would’ve thought it?”

Bucky was no longer hiding behind his coffee. “Wait. Steve? No, Steve’s not--”

“Oh, sugar, aren’t you sweet? But you’re not gonna get that horse back in the barn.” He offered his dimpled smile. “Least not with us. But don’t you worry. Your secret’s safe here.”

“After you tell your sister,” Max added.

“Oh, you know? You’re right. I gotta tell Jeannie. She will be fit to be tied! She’s just so in love with the man. But who can blame her?”

“No.” Bucky felt like he was chained to a lead balloon that had been thrown overboard. “You can’t do that. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, calm down, honey! Jeannie’s known how I am her whole life. She knows how these secrets work!”

Bucky was not swayed. “You can’t tell her. You can’t.” Steve was famous. And no way was a dame gonna keep that secret. Especially about a guy she’d been sweet on.

“Well, if it ain’t the man of the hour.” Steve had just come up behind Bucky. He knew it before Johnny had greeted him; he could feel the silent rage pouring off Steve.

“Lemme help you, Stevie.” Bucky turned and grabbed the trays before Steve dropped them. Then he took the coffee cups out of his hands, in case he decided he hadn’t taught Max enough of a lesson last night.

“Fellas,” Steve greeted them coolly, sitting down casually while looking Max right in the eyes. It was those kind of looks that had gotten them into more than one fight back home.

“Johnny was just telling us how his sister is your biggest fan.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve glanced over at Johnny, looking like he didn’t trust a thing that was happening at this table. Bucky was too anxious to touch his food. He just took another sip of coffee.

“She really is,” Johnny confirmed. “She went to see all your newsreels. She’d go just for the newsreels.”

“Wow.” Bucky was watching Steve. How did he feel about this? Had he encountered a lot of women who were wild for him on his show tour? He probably had.

And then something horrible occurred to Bucky. What if Steve wasn’t a virgin anymore? But...Steve would have told him if he’d been with a woman...wouldn’t he?

Steve was smiling, finally letting his guard down a little. “You want an autograph for her?”

Johnny was about to reply when Max felt the need to butt in. “You think she’ll still want your autograph when she finds out Captain America fucks guys?”

Bucky couldn’t remember the exact moment he’d decided to punch Max. Later on, all he could remember was his fist impacting with Max’s teeth, and feeling a familiar crunch. He remembered that it had suddenly gone very quiet, and there was no way the other soldiers in the mess had not heard what Max had just said. And then all hell broke loose.

Steve and Bucky spent the rest of their trans-Atlantic voyage in the brig. Turned out there was one aboard the over-crowded ship. They were tossed in just in time to hear the passed-down cry that land had been sighted, and then listen to everyone else rushing to get topside for a look. Bucky sat down on the floor, tired and miserable. “See, Buck?” Steve said, sitting down next to him. “I told you that asshole didn’t understand what you’re really like.”   

“Steve...I’m so sorry.” He hid his face in Steve’s shoulder. Bucky wished he’d never met those guys. No way would they keep Steve’s secret now.

“Why?” Steve asked, smiling. “That was the best fight we’ve had in years, Buck! It was great!” He cracked his knuckles happily.

Bucky couldn’t seem to explain to him why it wasn’t great. How he’d ruined Steve’s life. By trusting people--people who should’ve been able to understand the value of discretion--with their secret.

He spent the remaining hours aboard the ship trying to think of a way to save Steve’s reputation. Maybe if he didn’t touch him at all anymore...but Bucky couldn’t bear the thought of that. The other soldiers in the brig said nothing when Steve fussed over Bucky’s split knuckles, his lip, and his black eye. Which was good for them, because Bucky was ready to fight some more if need be.

“You think they’ll transfer us to the MPs once we go ashore?” He dreaded to think what Colonel Phillips would say.

“Nah.” Steve didn’t seem worried at all. “You can’t stick this many guys on a ship and not expect them to fight a little bit.”

“But that was like...a brawl,” Bucky pointed out. In the end, everyone in the mess had been fighting.

“Yeah,” Steve grinned, looking genuinely pleased as he finished wrapping Bucky’s bloody knuckles.  

“You’re a punk, you know that?”

Steve turned his pleased grin on Bucky. “And you’re a jerk that can throw a mean punch. I bet Max lost some teeth.”

“That’s what he gets,” Bucky growled. “Nobody threatens my pal.” He glanced around at the other guys in the brig with them. “ _ Nobody _ .” Fortunately, none of them seemed interested.

“That’s my guy,” Steve beamed, throwing an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.


	25. All for One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky aren't out of the woods yet. The Howling Commandos band together to protect one of their own, but will it be enough? Peggy has a few things to say about the boys' bad behavior aboard the ship. She gives Bucky more than a little food for thought. 
> 
> This chapter is rated M and features:  
> Bucky (POV)  
> Steve  
> Falsworth  
> Morita  
> Dugan  
> Jones  
> Dernier  
> Peggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you were thinking it couldn't get angsty again before the end.

They were the last to offboard. Though the Master-At-Arms just stood and stared with a mixture of disgust and relief as they left the brig, Steve and Bucky were far from finished.

The MPs were waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp. “Sergeant Barnes, you’ll have to come with us.”

Bucky looked up at Steve. He’d meant for it to be an ‘I told you so’ look, but he was too scared of being separated from Steve again to really gloat. Steve stepped forward. “The hell he is.”

“Steve.” That was his warning tone. His ‘don’t start a fight with these large Italian boys’ tone.  Bucky didn’t want him getting into trouble, too, and from the looks of it, Steve was planning on continuing the brawl they’d started on board.

The MP in charge stayed cool. “Captain Rogers, you’re to board the train with the others.”

Steve’s voice was low but intense. “If you think I’m leavin’ here without him, you got another think comin’.”

“Steve!” Bucky’s tone turned pleading. He could tell Steve was determined to get into a fight. As usual.

“What seems to be the trouble?” Bucky turned to see Falsworth approaching with a determined look.

“Our orders are to take James Barnes into custody,” the younger MP explained. “Not Captain Rogers.”

“There must be some mistake,” Falsworth said smoothly. “These two men are my particular guests.” He turned to gesture at a very expensive-looking car waiting on the dock. “And surely you know I operate under the orders of His Majesty himself.”

But the MP in charge wasn’t having any of that. “Well, then he’s gonna have to take it up with the U.S. Navy. American soldiers don’t take orders from His Majesty.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Falsworth said it very calmly, but Bucky suddenly got the impression these boys were in for a world of hurt.

“Lieutenant,” he cut in. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. You should go on ahead--”

“The hell we should.” Steve was eyeing the two MPs. Bucky could almost feel him calculating where the best place would be to hide their bodies.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Morita strolled over in that too-casual way tough guys from the neighborhood used to do before joining in a fight.

“Well, Corporal,” Falsworth explained coolly, his gaze leveled at the MPs the whole time, “these two gentleman apparently have orders to take our Sergeant Barnes into custody.”

“What?” Bucky didn’t have to turn and look at Morita to know he’d just stepped into fighting stance.

“We’re done here,” the MP in charge declared, having had enough. He stepped forward and grabbed Bucky by the elbow.

Bucky watched Steve line up the punch. “Steve, no!”

“You just try it, soldier!” the MP warned Steve.

“Try what?” Dum Dum asked, walking up to join them behind Morita.

“MPs think they’re gonna take Sarge away,” Morita explained.

“What?!” Dum Dum had even less patience than Steve, who was still contemplating, having a stare-off with the MP in charge, but hadn’t thrown a punch yet. Dum Dum charged right past him and tackled the MP with his hand on Bucky, carrying him further up the dock as the poor man started to beat him with his nightstick.

“Corporal, stand down!” Bucky shouted, but it was far too late. The other MP joined in the attempt to subdue Dum Dum, neither officer having too much luck. Someone started to push Bucky from behind, gently herding him past the scene, which was gathering onlookers.

“Come along now, Sergeant, our noble comrade’s sacrifice must not go in vain.”

“We can’t just run from MPs!” Bucky protested. 

“Who’s runnin’?” Steve asked, moving up to guard the front while Morita took the back.

“But--!” Bucky protested, craning his neck to look back at poor Dum Dum, who was starting to stumble under the weight of the two officers and their weapons.

“Monty’s right,” Morita told him, shoving them forward. “Dum Dum’s in for it for sure. Don’t make it for nothin’.”

“You guys aren’t making any sense!” Bucky protested. “They got orders to come for me. It won’t matter!”

“The brilliant thing about orders,” Falsworth said, as they reached the car, “is they can always be overridden. You simply must know whom to ask.”

The car door seemed to pop open on its own, and Gabe peered out at them. “Trouble?” he asked. Inside, Jacques was turned around, watching the fight through the back window, cheering on Dum Dum as if he were watching a boxing match.

“Trouble,” Morita answered.

“You guys--” Bucky was still protesting, but Steve practically picked him up and tucked him into the car in spite of that. Everyone piled in quickly after, and they were off. 

“Nice car,” Morita observed. The inside was huge. All six of them fit comfortably, Gabe and Jacques and Jim facing forward, Steve and Bucky and Monty facing backward, with room for everyone’s legs.

“I must admit, I don’t use this one much,” Falsworth said. Then he smiled. “I rarely have so much company to accommodate.”

Bucky couldn’t enjoy anything. He sat, sandwiched between his best friend and his self-assigned guardian, his face full of stormclouds. “What’re we gonna do about Dum Dum?” he asked softly.

“I’ll explain to Agent Carter once we arrive at headquarters,” Monty assured him. “She’ll arrange everything. I feel certain he’ll be back with us in a day or two.” But that didn’t make Bucky feel any better.

“It’s bullshit, Buck,” Steve told him. “They were gonna take you and not me, when we was both fightin’ in there. That ain’t right.”

“Steve--”

“I go where you go,” Steve insisted. “That’s the rule.” He reached down and took Bucky’s hand. In front of all the guys. Bucky tried not to look mortified. Tried to pretend it hadn’t just happened. That no one had seen it.

“So if they’d taken both of us, you’da been fine with it?” Bucky asked, trying to work out the Steve-logic.

“Sure,” Steve shrugged. “It’s like when we were both in the brig. At least it was fair.”

“Steve Rogers, you are a great big punk.” Steve glanced over, uncertain whether Bucky had said it with affection or derision. Surprise, it was a little bit of both.

“Fortunately, none of that matters,” Falsworth cut in, smoothly. “Neither of you has been arrested, and neither of you will be.”

“No,” Bucky said. “Just Dum Dum.” No one had an answer for that. He stared gloomily out the window for the rest of the drive. No one said much.

It was a long ride from Southampton to London. Steve fell asleep, and Gabe and Jacques amused themselves by fucking with him, finding a feather to tickle his nose, and almost drawing tattoos on his face with an art pen they’d snatched out of Steve’s bag. But Bucky stopped them.

By the time they reached headquarters, everyone was looking subdued. Monty told his driver to wait while he took care of some business. The rest of them climbed out, uncertain at first what to do with themselves. “We’d better check in,” Steve told them, taking charge.

“I’ll just find Agent Carter,” Monty announced, heading off on his own. Before he disappeared inside the building, however, he turned back to Bucky. “Should--” He paused, glancing apprehensively at Steve. “Should you wish for different quarters...should you need a safe haven in the future, my town home is at your disposal.” He stepped forward, handing Bucky a business card with his local address. “That’s where I shall be for the duration of our stay here.” Falsworth glanced up at Steve to see if he needed to duck. Apprehensive, Bucky glanced back, too, but Steve looked calm enough. Not happy, but not violently jealous either.

“Thanks, Monty.” Bucky tucked the card into one of his pockets.

As he walked away, Gabe came to stand behind Bucky. “Shit, I wanna stay in a rich man’s townhouse while we’re in London.”

“Well, you weren’t invited,” Steve told him, in a sassy tone that let Bucky know he was far less okay with that invitation than he’d seemed.

Gabe turned to Steve and gave it right back. “Hey, you weren’t either, Crackerjack.”

Dernier added some comment having to do with private invitations and anal sex with farm animals. Gabe laughed. “We should at least get an invite to dinner sometime, don’t you think?” Morita put in, hopefully.

“That’d be the  _ civilized _ thing to do,” Gabe said, adjusting his invisible monocle before straightening his lapels. He twirled his invisible cane and offered Dernier his arm. “Shall we?” he asked Jacques in the most posh of uptown accents. Even Steve snorted a laugh at the impression.

Jacques gave Gabe a good cursing out, but then he blithely took his elbow, and they walked through the doors arm in arm. Bucky gave Steve a preemptive look. “Don’t even think about it, Stevie.” Steve looked a little hurt, which, of course, only broke Bucky’s heart.  

He was trying to think of how to recover from the puppy eyes of Doom Steve was giving him when suddenly someone grabbed his elbow, and it wasn’t Steve. “Come on, Tin Man!” Jim proclaimed, taking Steve’s elbow next. “Come on, Scarecrow! We’re off to see the wizard!” Then he started singing and skipping, and they had no choice but to be towed along--Morita was awfully strong for such a little guy. Steve grinned from ear to ear and naturally joined in, belting out the tune at the top of his lungs as close to on-key as he could get (which wasn’t terribly).

Bucky just hung his head and let himself be dragged along. If he was the Tin Woodsman, it was in character for his heart to not be in it anyhow, right? “Hey guys? You know what’s a bad idea for not drawing attention to yourself after you almost got arrested?”

Everyone inside turned to stare at them as though they’d lost their minds. Fortunately, they didn’t get far. “Captain!” Agent Carter’s sharp tone cut off their cheerful tune as efficiently as if she’d used a straight razor. Bucky resisted the urge to hide behind Morita. Damn, that woman was scary when she wanted to be. She strode up to Steve as if she weren’t wearing six inch heels. “I suppose you think this is amusing? Having a lark about London, are you?”

“N-n--” Bucky couldn’t really blame Steve for stuttering. It was the blushing that pissed him off a little. “No, Ma’am!” He dropped Morita’s arm and saluted. Behind her, Bucky watched Jones and Dernier slowly side-stepping into a corner, hoping to go unnoticed.

“Barnes.” She leveled her death-gaze at him, and Bucky froze in place, nervous. Whatever happened to Sergeant? Had he been demoted already? “I’ll speak to you in my office.” She turned on her heel and headed down a side corridor. Bucky gave Steve an apprehensive look before following. Agent Carter stopped suddenly. “You, too, Captain.” She frowned back at Steve. “Separating the two of you has proven to be more trouble than it’s worth.”

Bucky didn’t know what she meant by that, but he tried to take it as a good sign. He felt better when Steve moved up next to him, walking beside Bucky close enough so that their arms kept touching. He didn’t like the idea of a dressing-down in Carter’s office alone. There was no telling what he might say. Hell, there was no telling what SHE might say. What if she knew about them? She could make life pretty damned hard for him and Steve if she wanted to.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Steve whispered, reassuringly. Bucky had to move his hand to keep Steve from gripping his fingers. This was so not the time.

“I beg your pardon?” Agent Carter turned to glare at them over her shoulder. Bucky did his best to look unaffected, but he was flashing back to Catholic school hard.

“Aw, I was just sayin’ how you remind me of one o’ the nuns who taught us in elementary school,” Steve lied. Poorly. Bucky turned to look at him only because Steve had read his mind again. It seemed the wrong time to be doing it. From the expression on her face, Carter agreed. She stopped and turned to face them.

“I’m not certain you understand the gravity of your situation,” she told Steve, crossing her arms over her chest. Even Bucky couldn’t help but notice it made her breasts look even bigger. Steve definitely noticed, because he totally forgot what he’d been about to say. Bucky had to kick the back of his shoe.

“Oh, uh. Nope--I mean yes! No, I do! I swear, I do.” She turned her glare on Bucky, as if it were his fault Steve was acting like an idiot.

_ If only _ , Bucky thought. But man did he wish she wasn’t pointing that rack at him. Those were some dangerous weapons. Lucky for them, they seemed to have arrived at their destination. Agent Carter turned and opened the nearest office door. Bucky followed her in first, in some sad hope of preventing Steve from ogling her backside. But he knew it was futile. He was watching Steve’s pupils dilate when Carter reached her desk, turned around, and lifted herself up onto it instead of walking around behind to take a seat. Bucky wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Take a seat, gentlemen,” she told them.

Maybe it was a strategic move, Bucky thought. With them sitting and her on her desk, it made her taller than they were. But holy hell.  _ Lookit those gams! _ Steve sure as hell was. She heaved a frustrated sigh, and Bucky was suddenly thinking of Kate. Carter’s expression was so close to the look on Kate’s face when he would ask if that pig boss of hers had grabbed her ass that day at work. It put things in a different perspective. He glanced over at Steve. Kicked his shoe again.

“The two of you have put me in a very difficult position,” Carter began. Steve finally looked up at her face, and Bucky felt a little better. She leveled her gaze at Bucky, and he felt significantly less better. “The United States Navy has asked that Sergeant Barnes receive serious disciplinary action for inciting a riot aboard an already-overcrowded military transport vessel.” Bucky’s heart sank into his boots.

“But that’s not fair!” Steve protested. “We both did it and--”

Carter just glared at him until he stopped talking. It was some trick. “Captain, this may not have occurred to you, as you have been an active member of the military for a very short time.” She glanced over at Bucky. “But I imagine your companion can confirm that very few things in large organizations run by men are fair.”

Bucky’d never really thought of it that way. But he sure as hell knew the army wasn’t fair. War wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair, really. He’d learned that back in Brooklyn. “Well that don’t make it right!” Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve was on one of his righteous missions again.

Carter’s eyes softened a little. “I agree with you, Steve.” Wait, Steve? Had she just called him Steve? “But that doesn’t change the fact the colonel and I will have to take time away from more important work in order to do some unnecessary damage control, thanks to both of you.”

Steve hung his head like a scolded child. “I didn’t think--”

“Clearly you didn’t.” Agent Carter steamrolled over his lame excuse. “As an officer, it’s your duty to maintain order among the enlisted men. Part of that--I shouldn’t have to tell you--includes not joining in brawls.” She glanced at Bucky. “No matter who starts them.”

“Well I stand by Bucky,” Steve said without looking up at her, sounding almost petulant. “No matter what.” And then he did look up, as if daring her to discharge them.

Agent Carter just sighed, sounding tired. “Yes, I imagined as much.” Her eyes flicked to Bucky for only a moment, and he could have sworn there was something like jealousy in them that time. It was a weird feeling. “Steve, promise me you won’t do anything like this again. We need you. The SSR needs you. The  _ Allies  _ need you.” She shook her head sadly. “But I’m not certain that will matter to Phillips if you’re involved in something like this again. No matter the reason.”

Bucky was watching Steve.  _ Come on, pal _ , he thought.  _ You can do this.  _ Surely there was a point where even Steve had to see the big picture. Being that hard-headed kid from Brooklyn was fine when it helped you fight Nazis. Not so much when you were defying the authority of your own commanding officers. He watched Steve purse his lips and clench his jaw. He inhaled through his nose, and suddenly he was a different person. Less Steve Rogers, and more Captain America. “I’m sorry, Peggy.”

_ Peggy? Wait,  _ **_Peggy_ ** _?  _ Why did Bucky suddenly feel like he’d crashed one of their dinner dates?

“I’ll do better,” he promised. Then glanced over at Bucky. “We both will.” Bucky nodded. He could hardly not, now that Steve had spoken for him.

Agent Carter nodded. “I’ll hold you to that, Captain.” She glanced at Bucky. “You’re dismissed. I’d like to have a word alone with Sergeant Barnes.” There went Bucky’s heart, sinking into his boots again. Just when he’d thought they were in the clear. He could feel Steve looking at him, considering whether or not he needed to go back on his promise so soon.

Fortunately, he stuck by his word. “I’ll be waitin’ outside,” Steve told him, standing up and saluting Agent Carter before he stepped out.

While Bucky waited, she rose from her desk and walked to the door, glanced out. “At the end of the hall will be just fine, Captain,” she told Steve. “Thank you.” Bucky hadn’t even considered Steve had been planning on eavesdropping, but of course he had been. Agent Carter seemed to know as well as anyone how good Steve’s hearing was now.

She shut the door and walked back to hop on the desk again. Bucky did his best to think about his sister. He waited for her to start in on him, but she didn’t. When he glanced up, it looked like she was considering her words carefully. “You...are an extraordinary young man, Sergeant.”

Bucky tried to work out what she meant by that. Tried not to get offended that a woman younger than he was had just called him ‘young man’. Was she coming onto him? Fuck, that would complicate things. But he wasn’t getting that vibe from her.

“Something about you, something I can’t quite put my finger on…” Bucky just returned her curious look, a little apprehensive. “Something that inspires an unshakable devotion in the men that surround you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’d like to put it to use, but I still haven’t set upon how.”  

Bucky had literally no idea what to say to that.

“Sometimes I wonder…” she mused aloud. “Is it that same devotion that drove Paris to provoke war with Greece?”

She’d completely lost Bucky. Was France marching on Greece now?

“Could your face launch a thousand ships?” she asked him, drumming her fingernails against the desk.

Bucky returned a blank look. He felt like he’d missed a memo somewhere.

“I wonder. Could it be that simple?” She stood and began to pace. “Somehow I think not.”

“Putting that aside for the moment,” she continued, walking over to a map on the wall behind her desk. Bucky couldn’t help but notice it was placed kind of where an office window should have been. But he supposed even agent dames didn’t warrant offices with windows. He thought of Kate again. “I believe we can both agree, of yourself and Captain Rogers, you are the more responsible party.”

_ Ouch _ , Bucky thought. She knew Steve that well, at least.

She turned to face him. “So I must ask you, as his...friend. Remember who he is. To  _ us _ . What he represents now.” She clenched both hands at her sides. “People gave their lives to give him this chance.” People who mattered personally to her, Bucky could see in her eyes. It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her. “In many ways, he’s our best hope.” She shook her head. “Most of them don’t realize it yet, but he is.” She took a step forward. “I believe you know it, too.”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “I’ll tell you this much, once Steve gets somethin’ in his head, it’s hard to stop him.” He considered for a moment. “Now...with this new body...I’d say he’s just about unstoppable.” Agent Carter was nodding.

“And yet,” she clasped her hands. “For  _ you _ , he would. I see that now.”

Wait...was she saying what he thought she was saying? Bucky shrank back in his seat, minutely.

“So I must ask you, Sergeant. Don’t impede him. Don’t hold him back.”

Bucky was just about to protest that he’d never been able to hold Steve back, even when he’d wanted to, but she continued. “Don’t bring him down to your level.” And that hurt. He’d gone months without being made to feel like an Irish dog from the slums of New York. It was a feeling Bucky could have done without.

Her eyes were bright. “Don’t be the anchor that drowns the eagle,” she told him. “I’m sure you mean well.” She walked closer. “But if you--if you truly care for him, if you want to see him reach his full potential, you won’t hold him back. You’ll understand what must be done.”

Bucky was speechless. Just what was she asking him to do? Off himself? Cut all ties with Steve? The result would be about the same for him. “I…” He knew he was supposed to say something, so he searched for words. “I won’t stand in his way...Ma’am.” He swallowed. “All I ever wanted for Steve…” Why was he getting choked up? “All I ever wanted was for him to be happy.” Well that had gone sideways. Suddenly he felt like they were having a totally different conversation.

She gave him a strange look. Almost sympathetic. “Sergeant, I hope you understand, in war, it’s not about personal happiness. As an agent of the crown, I frankly don’t give a damn if Captain Rogers is happy. I care that he can do his job, to the best of his ability, without distraction.”

Bucky nodded. “I understand.” His voice was hoarse. It was hard to get the words out.

She kept looking at him with that expression he was afraid to read. “I sincerely hope you do.” She’d come to stand over him, and for a minute, Bucky thought she was going to touch his arm. But she didn’t. “Thank you, Sergeant.” Her voice was gentle. “That will be all.”

Bucky couldn’t look at her. He just pushed himself to his feet, offered a half-hearted salute, and headed to the door. And suddenly Bucky found himself wishing that Steve wasn’t waiting for him on the other side.


End file.
